The physician came again and said that, much to his surprise, Fenn’s illness was not as alarming as had at first appeared.
“Can’t I go out?” asked the lad, not telling what for.
“Hum—ah—er—um—well, it’s a little risky, but then—well, I guess you can,” and, after much humming and hawing the medical man gave his consent and left, shaking his head over the perverseness of those who were always in a hurry.
“Now send up my clothes, please,” begged Fenn, when the doctor was safely away. “We’ll solve the mystery of that cave in jig style.”
“Hadn’t we better wait for the other boys?” suggested Ruth. “Besides it’s nearly dinner time, and you ought to eat something.”
“Good idea,” declared Fenn, but, whether it was the one about eating, or waiting for the boys he did not say.
Frank, Bart and Ned were rather late getting back from the motor boat ride, but they had such a good time that no one blamed them. Mr. Hayward also returned, and it was quite a merry party that gathered about the table. That is all except Mr. Hayward. He seemed to be rather worried over something, and, at times, was rather distracted, his thoughts evidently being elsewhere.
“What’s worrying you, daddy?” asked Ruth, after a while.
“Nothing, my dear. Why?”
“You’re not eating at all.”