"More expense! More expense!" protested Mr. Larabee. "Oh, what is the present generation coming to?"
No one answered him.
"When do you expect to start?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"Just as soon as the boys can get ready," replied Dick. "It's up to them."
"I'll have to write home," said Paul. "I've no doubt, though, but what my folks will let me."
"Same here," observed Innis.
"What is that?" suddenly demanded Uncle Ezra. "Who is kicking my legs?"
He moved his feet about under the table, but as he sat at some distance from the others it was difficult to understand who could be kicking him. The mystery was solved a moment later, however, for a low growl came from beneath the oak table.
"It's that dratted dog!" exclaimed the crabbed old man. "Mortimer, if I can't eat my dinner in peace——"
"I didn't know he was in here," said Dick, apologizing. "Gibbs, have Grit taken to the stable."