“You go home, father. I’ll join you there soon.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh I’ve got some little things to attend to about town.”
Mr. Hardy proceeded on his way alone. It made Ben sorry and fretted to observe his depressed and downcast air.
“I’ll fit things if it takes all I’ve got,” said Ben firmly, and he walked down the street and entered the savings bank where he had deposited most of the money received from the sale of the Sybilline whistle.
Mr. Pearsons was busy at his desk when Ben re-entered the office. He looked up somewhat surprised, with the words:
“Well, what’s the trouble, Hardy?”
“My father has gone home very much discouraged,” said Ben seriously. “An idea struck me that may change the situation somewhat, so I thought I would come back to see you.”
“Very good. What then?” inquired the lawyer.
“Why, just this—a way to get ahead of the Saxton crowd in filing the application for those patents.”