“Now,” added Bob, with a laugh, “I suppose your next order will be for me to go back to Piketon.”
“I don’t know that there is anything better for you to do; but I have been thinking that it might be better to bring Dick Halliard to New York, that we can talk the whole thing over and reach a full understanding before you return.”
“That suits me better.”
“Our folks are anxious to meet him, for I have told them so many things about him that he has become quite a hero in their eyes. And then there’s another matter that I want to speak to you about,” added Jim, rising from his chair, opening the door and peering into the hall, as if he feared that some one might overhear his words.
“There’s no danger of anything like that,” said Bob, with a laugh; “we are not of enough importance to have any one listening at the keyhole to catch our words.”
“I don’t know about that,” replied Jim, with an air so mysterious that the curiosity of his friend was aroused. “I guess I’ll risk it; but no one knows of it beside father and mother.”
And then Jim, in a guarded undertone, made known another momentous secret, while his companion sat with open mouth and staring eyes listening to his words. He did not speak until he had finished and turned upon him with the question:
“What do you think of that, Bob?”
“I agree with you; I’ll stand by you to the end; but what about Dick’s visit to New York?”
“I’ll write to him now and mail both letters as I go out.”