As Dick uttered these words his father looked up. His interest had been suddenly aroused, and for the first time he joined in the conversation.
"Did you say that Tim Parkin was at the Sign of the Maple?" he growled.
"Yes, Dad," the young man replied. "He was looking bigger and more prosperous than ever. He seemed mighty pleased over something."
"Did you near what they were talking about?"
"No, I couldn't make out anything as we were on the opposite side of the room."
"But you could see the girl, though. If your ears had been half as good as your eyes you would have heard what was being said."
"But any one can see much farther than he can hear," Dick protested.
"You surely don't expect the impossible from me, do you?"
"I don't expect anything from you, sir," and Mr. Sinclair glared at his son. "I have long since given up expecting. All you care for is to have a good time riding around in the car, attending parties, and looking for the prettiest girls. If you were as much interested in business as you are in pleasure you would be of some use to me. But I guess you'll have to get a hustle on mighty goon, though, from the look of things. I won't be able to indulge you in your idleness much longer."
"Why, Dad, what do you mean?" Dick enquired. "You're not going to throw me overboard, are you?"
"Oh, no, I won't do it. But there are others who will, or I'm very much mistaken."