“Mr. Howbridge is coming here this afternoon,” said the girl. “You might stay and see him, if you like, Neale.”
“What, with a whole Civic Betterment Club of girls coming to the Corner House! No, thank you,” he laughed. “I’ll see him afterward. But I have more hope now than I ever had before.”
“I’m very glad,” murmured Ruth. “Mr. Howbridge will give you any help possible, I’m sure. Shall I speak to him about it when he comes to advise us how to form our Civic Betterment Club?”
“Oh, I think not, thank you,” answered Neale. “He’ll have enough to do this afternoon without taking on my affair. I can tell him later. But I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
“Of course you couldn’t!” said Agnes. “That would have been a fine way to treat me!” Neale, who was Agnes’ special chum, in a way seemed like one of the family—at least as much so as Mrs. MacCall, the housekeeper, Uncle Rufus, or Sammy Pinkney, the little fellow who lived across Willow Street, on the opposite side from the Corner House.
“Well, I feel almost like another fellow now,” went on Neale, as he started down the walk. “Not knowing whether your father is alive or not isn’t much fun.”
“I should say not!” agreed Agnes. “I wish I could ask you to stay to lunch, Neale, but—”
“Oh, gee, Aggie!” The boy laughed, and off down the street he hastened, his step light and his cheery whistle ringing out.
“Isn’t it wonderful!” exclaimed Agnes, as she followed her sister into the house.
“Yes, if only it proves true,” returned the older girl, more soberly.