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Lester was sadly disappointed. He hoped and believed that his room-mate was about to propose something in which he could join him.

“I am sorry I can’t go with you,” said he; “but I don’t want to follow the sea.”

“Of course you don’t, for you belong ashore. I belong on the water, and there’s where I am going. Oxford is two hundred miles from Bridgeport, and that is a long distance to walk through snow that is two feet deep.”

“You can go on the cars,” suggested Lester.

“No, I can’t; unless I steal a ride. My father is determined to keep me here, and consequently he does not allow me a cent of money,” said Huggins; and he proved it by turning all his pockets inside out to show that they were empty.

“He is mean, isn’t he?” said Lester, indignantly. He was about to add that his father had given him a very liberal supply of bills before he set out on his return to Rochdale, but he did not say it, for fear that his friend Huggins might want to borrow a dollar or two.

“But he will find that I am not going to let the want of money stand in my way,” added Huggins. “I saw several nice little yachts in their winter quarters when I was at the wharf the other day, and if it were summer we’d get a party of fellows together, run off in one of them, and go somewhere and have some fun. When the time came to separate, each one could go where he pleased. The rest of you could hold a straight course for home, if you felt like it, and I would go to sea.”