"You inferred it," said Miss Chase. "However, we forgive you. Fortunately we shan't be able to die of dullness entirely, because there will be so much to be done preparing for the voyage."
"I vote Bob stays with us till we go," said Eustace.—"He would be jolly useful, wouldn't he, mother?"
"Really, Eustace," remonstrated Mrs. Orban with a laugh, "I am ashamed of you. Is that the way you treat your friends?"
Eustace reddened and looked uncomfortable as the laugh went round. Glancing deprecatingly at Bob, he found that he was not even smiling. It did seem a cheeky way of putting it.
"I beg your pardon," he began, when Bob interrupted quickly.
"No, don't. I was only thinking what a jolly thing you had said. What are friends for if they are not to be made use of?"
"That is rather a dangerous theory to propound," said Mr. Orban. "Supposing your friends take advantage of it—what then?"
"A real friend never would take advantage of it," said Bob with certainty; "that is just how you can test him. The chap who will take nothing from you, but only give, is a patronizing bounder; the fellow who will give nothing to you, but only take, is a mean beggar; the man who will give and take equally is your chum. Hold on to him when you've got him."
"An excellent definition, Bob," said Mr. Orban, with a genial smile. "We shall certainly never let you go."
There was a second's pause, then Bob said quietly,—