“I understand,” said Elmer Jones, as the boys began to gather that evening in the hall, where the choice was to be duly announced, “that the committee is now in session in another part of the building, and having the best of the farces read aloud by Mr. Parkhurst, who once upon a time used to be a public reader.”
“Sure thing,” added Peg Fosdick. “And I’ll tell you a little secret in the bargain. Never mind how I came to know it, but you can depend on it for a fact.”
“Pitch right in then, Peg!” urged one of those clustered around the two.
“It takes Peg to get on the track of things,” laughed another.
“Listen then,” Peg went on softly, in his mysterious way. “While Mr. Holwell, you understand, isn’t on the committee, he has been asked to join them. I saw him going through just a little while back.”
“Whew! I wonder what that can mean?” remarked Phil Harkness.
“Mebbe there’s some sort of hitch, and they need an umpire to decide it,” suggested Clint Babbett.
“Either that,” went on Peg, with a wink, first at Dick, and then toward Nat, both of whom were in the bunch, “or else it’s a neck and neck race between a couple of well-known junior residents of Cliffwood, and they’re looking for some reason to penalize one of the contestants.”
“You’re all wrong,” spoke up Andy Hale. “Listen to me. Remember that little anecdote about the sailor and the soldier. Some one wanted to know which could give the time of day best. One fellow said the soldier ought to, because he so often had to mark time. But the answer was that the sailor must be best qualified to tell, for the simple reason that he had been to sea. Well, I’m the Jack Tar, and I’ve been on the job.”
“Then why was Mr. Holwell called into the room with the committee?” demanded Nat, boldly; and those who were close to him could see that he looked plainly concerned, as though the suspense might be wearing heavily on him; while, on the other hand, Dick seemed utterly unconcerned, for the money part of the prize no longer appealed to him as before his recent good fortune.