“No. I don’t know whether mother ever heard from him again, but Winslow says he provided decently for her and me. Put some money in a bank, you know, and mother received so much every month. She was sort of extravagant, though, I guess, because a couple of years before she died she tried to get hold of the――whatyoucallit――principal. That’s when old Winslow came into it. She got him to try to get the money for her. He didn’t succeed, but he kept on trying, and he was still at it when mother died. That’s how she came to make him my guardian. She thought he was the eel’s whiskers.” “I’ve heard,” said Clif when Tom had been silent a space, “that the English are great folks for traveling about. Englishmen especially. Maybe your father was like that, Tom. Wasn’t contented to stay put, you know.” “I’m pretty sure of it,” answered Tom. “I’m that way myself, worse luck. I can’t hear a train whistle or a steamship toot without getting a thrill, I can be happy for hours looking at a map and I never see a road that I don’t feel my feet itching to find out what’s at the end of it. Ever feel that way? Well, I guess I get all that from my father. Oh, I could forgive him for leaving my mother, because, as I’ve told you, there might have been some excuse, but what I can’t forgive him is not showing up or sending some word after she died. You’d think he might be at least faintly interested in me, Clif. That’s what I’ve got in for him, and I’d like mighty well to see him some day just long enough to tell him what I think of him!” “But, Tom, doesn’t it seem probable that――that he’s dead? It’s――how long?――eleven years, isn’t it, since he went off?” “Yes, he may be dead. I suppose he is. That is, sometimes I do, and other times I’m plumb certain he isn’t. Winslow wanted to spend a lot of money and find out about him; who he was and what had become of him; but I wouldn’t let him. Told him if he did he’d have to spend his own money. He wasn’t keen for that. Oh, I don’t really care now. I’ve got along without a father for nearly twelve years and I guess I can keep on. Only――only sometimes――when I see other fellows with theirs――” Tom relapsed into silence. Clif, searching for words that would express the sympathy he felt without offending the other’s pride, said nothing. Presently Tom broke the silence with: “Well, that’s that. Sorry to have bored you, old scout, but I rather wanted you to know the real reason why I acted so like a bounder that day. I’ve wanted to tell you ever since, but a fellow sort of hesitates to talk about his private affairs.” “I’m very glad you did tell me,” answered Clif through the dusk. He wanted to say more, but again the right words eluded him. After a moment or two Tom swung his feet to the floor with a bang. “Heck, let’s have some light,” he exclaimed. “This is enough to give a fellow the willies!”