"And if your machine needs a drink, perhaps you will too," said the farmer's wife. "I've just made some hot coffee, and I'd like you all to come in and have some."
"We will!" assented Dick, and most grateful was the beverage, for riding in the open car was chilly.
"What a difference in people," commented Paul, as they started off again.
The young millionaire felt almost as badly at sending the discouraging news to his father as Mr. Hamilton must have felt on receiving it. But he immediately wired back a cheerful telegram to his son.
"Don't worry," he advised, "we'll try some other way, and perhaps you may be able to get around Duncaster later. I'd come on and tackle him myself, but I can't spare the time."
Thereupon Dick began to devise ways and means of inducing the miserly and crabbed financier to part with the stock. He even thought of taking part of the money that was in his own right, and making an offer higher than the one authorized by his father, but he reflected since Mr. Hamilton had not told him to go more than ten points above par value, perhaps there might be a special reason for this.
"I might take a crowd of the fellows out to his house some night and haze him," ventured our hero.
"Let me go along if you do," begged Paul eagerly. "I'd like to get even with him for calling us tin soldiers."