"Come along and walk with me," said Jack, promptly. "I am in a little
of a hurry, but we can be going in the direction of my house, and take
it slowly. Now what's happened, Bob?"

"Happened, Jack? Why, nothing at all, and that's just what's the
matter. If only something _did_ come along to break up this terrible
monotony, I'd welcome it; but every day's like the one before it. I go
to bed, and get to sleep all right, but when I wake up along in the
early hours, about two or three o'clock, I begin to think, and lie
there till dawn comes, just groaning to myself, and trying to make
up my mind what I ought to do."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Big Bob, sure I am," said Jack, his voice
telling the same thing. "But you say things haven't changed at home.
By that I reckon you mean your father hasn't asked you anything about
that letter he gave you to mail?"

"Not yet, Jack, but I'm mighty much afraid it's going to come any time
now. You see, he must be getting anxious because he's received no
answer to his letter, though of course there hasn't been any too much
time so far. But my mother is worried on account of _me_. I've almost
lost my appetite. The things that used to appeal to me the most I now
let pass with barely two helpings. She knows there's something gone
wrong; you can always trust a boy's mother for being the first to
suspect that, when he gets off his feed."

"Does she say anything to you?" asked Jack, solicitously, for it
pained him to see how much Big Bob felt it all.