"Two weeks!" cried Phil. "If I have to stay out as long as that I'll be so out of form that I'll be no good." "Well, we'll see how the ligaments get along," was all the satisfaction the doctor would give the sufferer. Tom and Sid remained with their chum, and, after the physician had left, they made all sorts of insane propositions to Phil with a view of making him more comfortable. "Shall I read Greek to you?" offered Sid. "Maybe it would take your mind off your trouble." "Greek nothing," replied Phil with a smile. "Haven't I troubles enough without that?" "If I had some cheese I would make a Welsh rarebit," Tom said. "I used to be quite handy at it; not the stringy kind, either." "Get out, you old rounder!" exclaimed Sid. "Welsh rarebit would be a fine thing for an invalid, wouldn't it?" "Well, maybe fried oysters would be better," admitted Tom dubiously. "I could smuggle some in the room, only the measly things drip so, and Proc. Zane has been unusually active of late in sending his scouts around." "I'll tell you what you can do, if you want to," spoke Phil. "What's that?" asked Tom eagerly. "Send word to my sister, over at Fairview. She may hear something about this, and imagine it's worse than it is. I'd like her to get it straight. I got a letter from dad to-day, too, saying mother was a little better. I'd like sis to read it." "I'll go myself, and start right away!" exclaimed Tom enthusiastically. "I can get permission easily enough, for I've been doing good work in class lately. I'll come back on the midnight trolley." "You're awfully anxious to go, aren't you?" asked Sid. "Of course," replied Tom. "Why do you speak so?" "I believe Miss Madge Tyler attends at Fairview," went on Sid to no one in particular, and there was a mocking smile on his face. "Oh, you just wait!" cried Tom, shaking his fist at his chum, who sank down into the depths of the old easy chair, and held up his feet as fenders to keep the indignant one at a distance. "You'll get yours good and proper some day." "Well, if you're going, you'd better start," said Phil. "I forgot, though. You've never met my sister. That's a go!" "Can't you give me a note to her?" asked Tom, who was fertile in expedients where young ladies were concerned. "I guess so. Lucky it's my left instead of my right shoulder that's out of business. Give me some paper, Sid." "Tom doesn't need a note," was the opinion of the amateur woman-hater. "He'll see Miss Tyler, and she'll introduce him." "That's so," agreed Tom, as if he had just thought of it. "That will do first rate. Never mind the note, Phil," and he hurried off, lest something might occur that would prevent his visit. He readily obtained permission to go to Fairview Institute, and was soon hurrying along the river road to catch a trolley car. As he crossed a bridge over the stream, he heard voices on the farther end. It was dusk, now, and he could not see who the speakers were. But he heard this conversation: