"That depends." Mr. Wallace smiled whimsically. "I have a book that I want to finish this time. But I also have a notion that I want to do some ivory hunting in the Congo. If the pull doesn't get too strong I may stay a month or two."
"Hurray!" chipped in Burt, enthusiastically. "Come along to the frat meeting and tell us about the war last year! We got a 'nitiation on an' you can boss it!"
"No thanks!" laughed his uncle heartily. "When I want to do any lecturing I'll let you know, Burt. By gracious, Tom, the boy looks like a ghost! Been sick?"
"No," replied Mr. St. John gravely. "I'm afraid he's overworked. He's been trying for a scholarship at Yale that the high school offers, and the strain has been a little too much."
"Hm! Won't do, Burt," declared Mr. Wallace. "Books are all right but no use running 'em into the ground. Play baseball?"
"Sure!" replied Burt. "Not this spring though. Been too busy. Besides, I've been helpin' Critch with some stuff."
"Critch?" repeated his uncle, puzzled. "Who's Critch?"
"Howard Critchfield," replied Mr. St. John. "His father is my head draftsman and Burt and Howard are great chums. Howar d has a room down at the shops where he works afternoons and putters around at taxidermy."
Burt glanced at his watch and rose hastily. It was past seven and he had forgotten the time.
"See you later, uncle!" he said as he went to the door. What a tale he would have for the other boys! Despite his uncle's refusal to come with him Burt knew that once he got "the crowd" up to the house Mr. Wallace would provide a most delightful evening.