"No. I don't feel like eating. Guess I'll go home."
But Bob's plan was frustrated. His mother, who had been looking for her son, caught sight of him.
"Oh, Bob!" she exclaimed. "I hope none of the boys that you go with played that horrid trick on the minister! It was a very mean thing to do! But you had better have your supper. The table will soon be ready again."
Bob did not have much appetite. He was afraid of being discovered.
The chair, with the glue on it, had been taken to the cellar, and the minister had gone home to change his trousers. Captain Spark, who had begun to turn certain things over in his mind, approached Bob. He had a sharp eye, had the mariner, and, in looking closely at his relative's son, he saw a bit of evidence that Bob had not counted on. This was nothing more nor less than a big spot of glue on the lad's coat sleeve.
"What's this?" asked the seaman, pointing to the sticky place.
"I don't know. Glue—I guess," replied Bob, turning pale.
"Glue, eh? Seems to be about as sticky as that on the minister's chair."
At the mention of glue several persons about Bob and the captain looked curiously at them. Mrs. Henderson, who was just then passing, carrying a big platter of baked beans, stopped to listen to what the seaman was saying.
"Yes, it's glue," remarked the mariner. "Just like that on the chair. Bob," he asked suddenly, "did you put that glue there?"