“I’m all right, Master Tom—­an’ will be so long as you let me alone,” was the deliberate answer from the driver.

“He remembers you all right enough, Tom,” came from George Granbury.

“Now, Peleg, don’t throw cold water on my enthusiasm,” said Tom reproachfully.

“I ain’t throwin’ water on nobody, Master Tom; I’m only giving fair warning that I want to be let alone,” answered the driver doggedly.  “No more monkey shines around me, remember that.”

“All right, Peleg, I’ll remember.  And how is Mrs. Green, our worthy housekeeper?”

“First-rate.”

“No whooping-cough?”

“No.”

“Nor measles, or chicken-pox?”

“Not a bit of ’em.”

“Or mumps?  Tell me, now, she really hasn’t got the mumps, has she?”

“See here, Master Tom, didn’t I jest tell you—­”

“No, you didn’t tell me, and that’s why I’m so anxious to know.  If she’s got the mumps, and the chilblains, and the ingrowing warts—­”

“Oh, crickey!  I knew it!” groaned Peleg Snuggers.  “I says to myself as I was a-drivin’ over, ’if thet Tom Rover comes back, I might as well throw up my job, for he won’t give nobody a rest!’ If you would only—­”

“All right, Peleg, I see you are really and truly bound to go back on me.  You hate me!” Tom drew his handkerchief from his pocket.  “It is awful, after all I have tried to do for you in the past.  I’ve got to—­ to—­cry!  Boo—­hoo!” And the boy began to wipe his eyes.

“Look a-here, Master Tom, it ain’t nothin’ to cry about,” said Peleg half suspiciously.  “I only give you warnin’—­”

“You are so—­so hard-hearted, Peleg.  Boohoo!  I want to go back home!” And Tom began to sob.

This was too much for the driver, and his face fell.

“Don’t you mind me, Master Tom,” he said softly.  “I didn’t mean nothin’, indeed, I didn’t.  You’re all right.  I like you better’n any of ’em.”

“Oh, dear!” burst out Larry Colby.  “Just to hear that!”

“Peleg, have you gone back on us?” demanded George Granbury.

“He ought to have a ducking for that,” put in another.

“Let’s dump him into the lake!”

“Come on, a cold bath will do him good!”

“No! no!  Oh, crickey!” groaned the driver of the carryall.  “This is a mess!  I—­I didn’t mean nuthin’, gents, indeed, I didn’t—­”

“He’s mean enough for anything, that’s what he means,” came from a voice in the rear.  “Pile in, before he runs away, and leaves us to walk to the Hall!” And into the carryall the boys tumbled, one over another.  Dick got a seat beside the driver, and away they went at a spanking gait, through Cedarville, and then along the winding road leading to the academy.  Two or three of the cadets had brought tin horns with them, and they made the welkin ring as the turnout dashed on its way.

“A ginger-snap prize to the first fellow who spots the academy,” cried Sam, as they made the last turn in the highway.