"Thanks, Dick," was Henry Darby's answer. "But I can't go."
"Why not?" asked the millionaire's son, as he brought his runabout to a stop.
"Well, I'm engaged in a little business deal, and I'm so bothered over it that I wouldn't enjoy a ride. Besides, I have to go see a man."
"What's the business about, Henry? That same old iron?"
"That's it."
"But what are you bothered about?"
"Well, the truth is I have a chance to get hold of a lot of scrap at a very low figure. But the trouble is I must pay cash for it. I looked at it the other day, and told the man I'd take it. I figured then on having the money. Now I find I haven't got it."
"Did you lose it?"
"No," and Henry spoke hesitatingly. "But you see my father had an idea he could make some money by becoming agent for a new kind of soap. He borrowed my cash and sent for a big supply; but when he got it no one would buy it. So he has it on hand, and my money is gone. Of course what I have is my father's until I'm of age, but——"
Henry stopped. In spite of the selfish and lazy character of his parent he was not going to utter any complaint against him.