“Chester——”
“Present,” laughed a bronzed youth, stepping quickly down and placing an affectionate hand on Dick’s shoulder. “How are you, Merriwell, old man? On my soul, I’m quivering with delight over seeing you again. Give us a grip at that man’s hand of yours.”
This was June’s brother, who wrung Dick’s hand with all the hearty regard and affection of his soul.
“My head is humming,” laughed the bewildered boy. “I thought you were in Wellsburg, June; and you, Chester—I thought you somewhere away out in the wild and woolly.”
“I’ve shed my chaps, had my hair cut, hung up the riata, and come back to civilization,” said Arlington. “But I don’t suppose we ought to monopolize him, June. He has other friends who are anxious to get at him.”
While June and Chet turned to Brad Buckhart, Dick shook hands with Jack Randall, of Harvard.
“Quite a lively little party this of yours,” smiled the handsome Harvard man.
“Mine?” said Dick. “Why, Steele got up this party.”
“But we all understand it’s for your benefit and entertainment. Here are Barbara and Mabel.”
And now Dick understood why he had not seen Bab Midhurst and Mabel Ditson at the baseball game that afternoon.