“Oh, cut it out!” snapped Bob, with a trace of annoyance on his face. “I was up early and I didn’t have much breakfast. It’s nearly noon now, and if you want me to give any serious consideration to this gold mine proposition I’ve got to eat—that’s all!”
There was such a tone of resolve in the stout lad’s voice, and such an air of bravado about him, that Ned and Jerry looked at each other in surprise.
“Well, Bob, if that’s the way you feel about it,” began Ned, “we might as well——”
“That’s how I feel about it!” cracked out Bob. “I’m hungry—I don’t care who knows it! Ever since Jerry read that in the letter about Tinny having such a glorious feed of roast chicken and mushrooms—oh, boy!”
Bob did not go on, but Jerry, looking at his watch, remarked:
“It is almost noon, and I happen to know Bob was up early, for I telephoned over just before I ate breakfast and they said he’d gone out in a hurry.”
“I did. And I had nothing for breakfast but some slices of toast, bacon and eggs, and coffee,” broke in Bob. “No breakfast at all! Had to go down on an errand in a hurry for dad in the new car, and I stepped on the gas, let me tell you. Now, what about eating?” he asked eagerly.
“Well, don’t go to sleep, and I’ll go on with my speech of acceptance,” chuckled Jerry. “I was going to say, why not come to lunch at my house? Then we can talk over this gold mine dope.”
“Suits me,” said Ned briefly.
“It more than hits me in the right spot,” sighed fat Bob Baker.