“I only hope it isn’t too late,” added the banker.
Once more the chums looked wonderingly at one another, and then Ned, addressing his father, burst out with:
“Say, Dad, what’s it all about, anyhow? What’s up? Are we on trial just because we made a racket over a foot race?”
“We’ll apologize to Mrs. Hopkins, if you want us to,” Bob said.
“Oh, no, my dear boy, no apology is required!” Jerry’s mother made haste to say. “While you did make considerable noise, that isn’t the reason we called you in to hear our decision about a certain matter. Of course the way you all acted just now bears out what we have been fearful of for some time back, and that is—perhaps one of you gentlemen can explain better than I,” she finished with a nod toward Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade.
There was a momentary hesitation on the part of each of them, while the looks of wonder, not unmixed with apprehension, deepened on the faces of the chums. Then Mr. Slade said:
“Well, boys, it amounts to this. For some time we have been noticing your conduct. Not that you have done anything wrong or improper, but you haven’t done exactly what is right, either. You are getting on in years, in fact you are young men now, and boys no longer, so it is time you acted like young men.”
“If that race just now——” broke in Ned.
“Oh, it isn’t altogether that!” his father made haste to say. “That is only one straw that shows which way the wind is blowing. You are entirely too frivolous, and when I say that I include you, Jerry, and you, Bob, with the permission of your parents.”
“Yes, I agreed with Mr. Slade,” murmured Mrs. Hopkins.