On the following morning Oliver found his father somewhat recovered from the rude shock he had received. Of course the man was unable to move from the couch upon which he rested, but he was able to sit up and converse without, apparently, more than an occasional dull pain.
Mr. Bright was, however, much worried over the disarrangement of his plans, sighing out continually his disappointment at not being able to leave on a tour of discovery. To all this Oliver made no reply, saving to urge his parent not to worry, as all would yet turn out right.
During the day, the boy managed, by skillful questioning, to gain all the additional information that was to be had. In the afternoon he attended Sunday-school, the last time, he thought, for many weeks and perhaps months to come.
In the class with Oliver was Gus Gregory, his chum, a short and exceedingly stout youth, with a freckled but not unpleasant face. At the close of the service he and Oliver left together.
“Well, how did you make out over our fun at the doctor’s?” was Gus’s first question.
Oliver told him.
“My, but you got off easier than I did!” exclaimed the stout youth. “Didn’t pop give it to me though! I haven’t been able to sit down with any kind of comfort since.”
Oliver did not reply. He was silent for a moment, and then laid his hand on his chum’s shoulder.
“Say, Gus,” he said, “will you keep a secret if I tell it to you?”