"What do you want, Ripley?" called Dick. "Planning to give us a lesson in the art of polite speech?"
"Cut the funny talk," grumbled Fred. "Prescott, did you get a letter from my guv'nor this morning?"
"Why, no; I didn't know your father was in the habit of writing me letters. Anyway, I left home before the mail carrier was due."
"Guv'nor said that was likely to happen," continued Fred. "So he told me, if I saw you fellows on the ice, to say that he wanted to see you."
"All of us?" Dave wanted to know.
"I reckon so. And the guv'nor said it was important, too. You boobs had better crank up your skates and make fast time. Guv'nor won't be at his office late to-day."
"What——" began Dick.
"The guv'nor gave me a message to you fellows, and I've delivered it," cut in Fred airily, as he started to skate away. "That's all I've got to do in the matter. I don't care to stand here all day. Somebody that knew me might come along and catch me talking with you."
"The snob!" muttered Dave indignantly.
"What on earth can the lawyer want of us?" pondered Greg.