It hurt Bobby, too, to know that he rested under a cloud in the eyes of Mr. Leith, who had practically told him that afternoon that he did not believe him. He was a truthful boy and it came hard to have his word questioned.
All the next morning he was gloomy and downhearted. In the afternoon, Fred, like the loyal friend he was, tried to get his mind off his troubles by suggesting that they go swimming.
“Don’t let’s go to the lake this time,” said Fred. “Let’s go to Beekman’s Pond up in the woods. There’s a dandy place there for diving.”
It was a little early in the season yet for a swim, but the warm weather, which still continued, made the prospect an agreeable one. So, shortly after dinner, having received permission to go out of bounds, Bobby and Fred with half a dozen of the other boys started out for the pond.
“Say, fellows,” asked Billy as they trudged along, “what’s the dif—”
“There goes the human question mark again,” interrupted Mouser.
“He’s not to blame, he was born that way,” said Skeets with large toleration.
“Honestly, Billy,” chaffed Fred, “I don’t believe you can say a single sentence that isn’t a question.”
“Can’t I?” said Billy, a little nettled.
“There! what did I tell you?” said Fred, trapping him neatly.