Ruth considered. There was much to consider, but she knew he was an honest, wholesome boy—and he was in trouble.
"This once," she said, and let him see her grin.
"Thank you," he said, simply.
It was but a short drive to an A. D. T. office, where Bonbright wrote a message to Mrs. Frazer:
I'm taking your daughter to Apple Lake to dinner. I hope you won't mind. And I promise to have her home safe and early.
A boy was dispatched with this, and Bonbright and Ruth drove out the
Avenue with the evening sun in their faces, toward distant, beautiful
Apple Lake. Bonbright drove in silence, his eyes on the road. Ruth was
alone in her appreciation of the loveliness of the waning day.
The messenger left on his bicycle, but had not gone farther than around the first corner when a gentleman drew up beside him in an automobile.
"Hey, kid, I want to speak to you," said Mr. Rangar.
The boy stopped and the car stopped.
"You've got a message there that I'm interested in," said Rangar. "It isn't sealed. I want a look at it." He held out a five-dollar bill. The boy pocketed the bill and handed over the message, which Rangar read and returned to him. Then Rangar drove to the office from which the boy had come and dispatched a message of his own, one not covered by his instructions from Mr. Foote. It was a private matter with him, inspired by an incident of the morning having to do with a rumpled necktie and a ruffled dignity. The malice which had glittered in his eyes then was functioning now.