“Not so good. It’s going to take a long time to dry the book all the way through even in this sun.”
“Then let’s take it along to New Canaan. I’ll get Dad to put it in our oven as soon as we get home. That’ll do the trick. Get aboard that dinghy and I’ll row you over to the plane.”
Dorothy picked up the notebook and slipped it into her pocket.
“That’s the best thing you’ve said today,” she beamed, “I’ll be home and asleep in twenty minutes! Come along.”
Chapter XIII
THE WARNING
Dorothy and Mr. Dixon were finishing breakfast next morning when the Boltons, father and son, dropped in.
“Good morning, stranger,” was Mr. Dixon’s greeting to Bill. “I understand you’ve been to Europe and back a couple of times since we saw you last. We’ve missed you, boy.”
“Thanks,” returned Bill. “I’m glad to be home again.”
“Which home?” asked his father with an amused smile. “When in New Canaan you seem to spend most of your time across the way here.”
“And why not?” protested Mr. Dixon. “Dorothy and I return the compliment often enough. Since you people moved here two lonely widowers have acquired another child apiece. It’s fine—both Dorothy and I are the happier for it.”