“Now we don’t want to pry into your affairs, Jerry,” went on Ned, with a look at Bob, “but if we can help you—why, you know we’re only too willing. Is there anything we can do?”
“For we’re sure something’s wrong,” put in Bob. “Suppose we go to that restaurant in Blairtown and eat. I can always talk better when I eat,” added Bob, innocently enough.
“The same old Chunky,” murmured Jerry, with a smile. Then his manner grew more serious.
“Understand!” exclaimed Ned, quickly, as he noted the change in his chum’s face, “we don’t want to ‘butt-in,’ but we would like to help you. Are you in trouble, Jerry? Noddy Nixon isn’t bothering you again; is he? And Dr. Klauss hasn’t turned up again with his submarine; has he?”
“No! Oh, no! It isn’t anything as serious as that,” and Jerry smiled.
“Well?” spoke Ned, questioningly.
Jerry hesitated for a moment, and looked up and down the road, as though to make sure no one could hear what he was going to say.
“Fellows,” began the tall lad, “I sure do appreciate your interest in my affairs. And I don’t consider it ‘butting-in,’ either. I suppose I have been acting queerly, the last few days, but——”
“Queerly! I should say you had!” cried Ned. “It’s all right, old man,” he added, with a laugh, “no offense you know, but if you call it ‘queer’ to nearly smash us up a couple of times, I guess we’ll agree with you. Now then, out with it, and if we can help you, why, you know you don’t have to ask twice. Let her go, as Andy Rush would say,” and he glanced toward that distant youth.
“Well, I don’t know that it’s so very important, or serious,” resumed Jerry. “But, the truth of the matter is, I’ve been doing a lot of hard thinking of late, and I suppose it’s that which has made me seem absent-minded.”