"But, dad, how—how are you going to tell him?" Keith was holding back a little.
"Tell him! I'm just going to tell him," laughed the man. "That's easy."
"I know; but—but——" Keith wet his lips and started again. "You see, dad, he didn't know we were taking notes of his stories. He couldn't see us. We—we took advantage of——"
But Daniel Burton would not even listen.
"Shucks and nonsense, Keith!" he cried. Then a little grimly he added: "I only wish somebody'd take advantage like that of me, and sell a picture or two when I'm not looking. Come, we're keeping John waiting." And he took firm hold of his son's arm.
Yet in the McGuire living-room, in the presence of John McGuire himself, he talked fully five minutes of nothing in particular, before he said:
"Well, John, I've got some good news for you."
"GOOD news?"
"That's what I'd call it. I—er—hear you're going to have a book out in the spring."
"I'm going to—WHAT?"