“I can put you up here for to-night,” volunteered Mr. Allard. “And if you don’t feel strong enough to work regularly for a week or so, you can go back to-morrow and report for your regular performance a week from to-day.”
“I think that would be best,” put in Frank Brandon. “I imagine Mr. Bartlett will need at least another week before he’ll be able to work steadily.”
Larry was but little older than the radio boys, and Herb was in an ecstasy of delight over Brandon’s “Mr. Bartlett.”
“But if you stay here to-night you’ll miss having dinner at Doctor Dale’s house!” cried Jimmy, impulsively.
“Guess it can’t be helped,” said Larry, with a laugh, in which the others joined. “Business before pleasure, you know, Jimmy.”
“That’s what dad always tells me, too,” grumbled Jimmy. “But personally, I’d rather have the pleasure first, and let the business take its chance afterward.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said Mr. Allard. “There are too many people doing that already. 142 It’s a system that will never help you to put money in the bank, my boy.”
“He’ll probably find that out for himself sooner or later,” said Mr. Brandon. “I used to feel the same way, but I’ve got over it.”
“We’ll all be sorry that you can’t be with us to-night, Larry,” said Dr. Dale, kindly. “But we’ll be home in time to listen to your first radio performance this evening, so you’ll know that we’re hearing you just the same as though we were in this room with you.”
“I’ll be sure of that, Doctor Dale,” said Larry. “But I know I’ll be missing a fine supper at your house, and you know how I’d like to be there. I’ll be back in Clintonia to-morrow, anyway.”