"I am not. He is confoundedly disagreeable to me. We must shake him off. We can't have him following us all over Europe."
"He won't do that. He is going to the Paris Exposition."
"What's he going to do there—exhibit himself?"
"Not exactly," said Frank, good humoredly. "He's invented a plow that will take the shine off all others, so he says. So he will be detained there for some time."
"I am glad to hear that; but I mean to get rid of him beforehand. When we leave here we mustn't tell where we are going."
"I can't," answered Frank; "for I don't know, unless it is to London."
"Then I won't tell you, or you might let it out accidentally."
Meanwhile, Jonathan, who had ordered a couple of chops, was sitting in the coffee-room, making a vigorous onslaught upon them.
"I wonder what makes that Sharpley so skittish about me and Frank bein' together?" he thought. "He needn't think I want to stick near him. I wouldn't give half a cent for his company. But that boy's a good sort of a chap and a gentleman. I'll keep him in sight if I can."