CHAPTER V. The Happiness of Tucker

Early in the following November, Jim Weatherby, returning from
the cross-roads one rainy afternoon, brought Christopher a long,
wailing letter from Will.

"Oh, I've had to walk a chalk-line, sure enough," he wrote,
"since that awful day we left home in a pouring rain, with
grandpa wearing a whole thunderstorm on his forehead. It has been
cram, cram, cram ever since, I can tell you, and here I am now,
just started at the university, with my head still buzzing with
the noise of those confounded ancients. If grandpa hadn't gone
when he did, I declare I believe he would have ended by driving
me clean crazy. Since he left I've had time to take a look about
me, and I find there's a good deal of fun to be got here, after
all. How I'll manage to mix it in with Greek I don't see, but
luck's with me, you know--I've found that out--so I shan't
bother.

"By the way, I wish you would make Molly Peterkin understand how
it was I came away so hastily. Tell her I haven't forgotten her,
and give her the little turquoise pin I'm sending. It just
matches her eyes. Be sure to let me know if she's as pretty as
ever."

By the next mail the turquoise brooch arrived, and Christopher,
putting it in his pocket, went over to Sol Peterkin's to bear the