“And that goes two ways,” asserted Bill. “How about it, Dad?”
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Bolton assented heartily. “The intimacy is one I enjoy immensely. But I’m afraid that Bill has begun the habit of leading Dorothy into all kinds of dangerous adventures. This diamond smuggling business, for instance.”
Mr. Dixon chuckled. “If you ask me, I don’t think Dorothy needs any leading.”
“Well, I should say not!” exclaimed his daughter. “If it weren’t for Bill, I’d never be able to get out of half the messes we drift into together!”
Mr. Dixon pushed his chair back from the breakfast table. “This meeting of the mutual admiration society is all very nice,” he announced with a twinkle in his eye, “But it is high time the ways and means committee got together on this last Bolton-Dixon hair-raiser. I vote we adjourn to the porch and learn what the subcommittee on the smugglers’ notebook has to report.”
“Second the motion,” chirped Dorothy. “I’m just crazy to hear what you’ve found out, Daddy Bolton. I suppose Bill has been hitting the hay, like me?”
“He put in nearly sixteen hours of uninterrupted slumber,” Mr. Bolton answered as they found chairs for themselves on the shaded porch, where the air was sweet with the scent of honeysuckle.
“Well, I guess it was a dead heat,” she laughed. “I woke up less than an hour ago, myself.”
Mr. Dixon passed his case to Mr. Bolton and when their after-breakfast cigars were well alight, Bill produced the notebook.
“While you’re busy with that stogie, Dad, I’ll start the ball rolling.”