Probably there was no more disgusted person at the races that day than Noddy Nixon. He was mad at himself, at Jack, and more than angry at Bob, Ned and Jerry. He felt very bitter in his heart toward them, though it was all his own fault. Another matter that troubled him was the money he had lost on bets.
“I’m in a deep hole,” he muttered as he left the athletic grounds, “and how to get out I don’t know.”
For few of the tips that Jack had given proved good ones, and Noddy had lost in all about two hundred dollars. This was more money than he had possessed in some time, though an indulgent father kept him well supplied.
“Where’s my father?” asked Noddy in surly tones as the maid answered his ring at the handsome house on the hill where the Nixon family lived.
“In his study, Mr. Noddy,” answered the girl.
“Now to beard the lion in his den,” whispered the young man to himself.
In answer to Noddy’s knock—rather a timid, hesitating sort of a knock, and not in keeping with the bully’s usual bluster—Mr. Nixon bade his son enter.
“How are you, Noddy?” asked Mr. Nixon, who was fond of the young man, in spite of his bad manners at times.
“Pretty fair,” was the answer.