“I trust he comes through this year at Oak Hall all right,” resumed Mr. Porter, as, the automobile having disappeared, those left behind reentered the house. “He wishes to graduate, you know.”
“Don’t you think he’ll come through?” asked the manufacturer, quickly.
“I’m not sure about it. He has lost so much time—on that trip he and the others took—you know.”
“That is true.”
“Oh, Davy will come through, never fear!” 19 cried Caspar Potts. “I know the lad. If he makes up his mind—well, it’s as good as done,” and he nodded his whitened head several times. To the old college professor who knew him so well, there was no youth quite so clever and manly as Dave Porter.
In the meantime the big touring car was leaving Crumville rapidly behind. On the front seat, beside Mr. Porter, sat Phil, waving an Oak Hall banner and cracking all kinds of jokes. In the back were the two girls with Dave and Roger. All were well bundled up, for the air, though clear, was still cold.
“Here is where we make fifty miles an hour!” cried the shipowner’s son, gayly.
“Oh, Phil!” burst out Laura. “Fifty miles an hour! Uncle Dunston, don’t you dare––”
“Phil is fooling,” interrupted her uncle.
“That’s it—I made a mistake—we are to go at sixty miles an hour, just as soon as we pass the next chicken coop. We won’t dare do it before, for fear of blowing the coop over. We––”