"What is it?" demanded Fred, not much interested.
"I believe something's going to happen that you've just been hoping for," said Bobby, smiling.
"That Ap Plunkit's got the measles—or something?" exclaimed Fred, with a show of eagerness.
"Aw, no! It isn't anything to do with Ap Plunkit," returned Bobby, in disgust.
"What is it, then?"
So Bobby told him.
CHAPTER VII
FINANCIAL AFFAIRS
Two boys in Clinton did not go to Sunday School that day with minds much attuned to the occasion. Fred could scarcely restrain himself within the bounds of decent behavior as they walked from Merriweather Street, where both the Blakes and the Martins lived, to Trinity Square, where the spire of the church towered above the elms.
The thought that Bobby was going with him to Rockledge (Fred had jumped to that conclusion at once) put young Martin on the very pinnacle of delight.