"I'm more than pleased at the way things have turned out, and I don't know how I can ever repay you. Can't I help you somehow in money matters?"
Jim shook his head decidedly.
"No, thank you, Mr. Whittington. As I told you at the beginning of the summer, we're making our own way. Percy is entitled to every cent we've paid him, and I can honestly say we're glad he's been with us."
A half-hour afterward Mr. Whittington found his son alone.
"How about those college conditions, Percy?" he asked.
"Just finished my work on 'em before the wreck, Dad. I'm ready to take my exams the minute I strike college. It's been a hard pull, harder even than the fishing and lobstering, and it's kept me hustling; but I believe I've won out. Studying isn't so bad. All you've got to do is to make up your mind to get your lessons, and then get 'em."
"That's so in other things besides studying, Percy. You'll find it out later on."
"I guess I don't need to tell you," continued his son, "how much I owe to Jim Spurling and the others. They're the whitest bunch I ever ran with, and I wouldn't have missed my summer with them for anything."
"Something different from what you felt three months ago, eh, Percy? Remember our talk at Graffam Academy, Commencement night?"
"Rather guess I do! And, believe me, I sha'n't forget it in a hurry. By the way, there's one fellow I owe a good deal to that I haven't told you about yet."