"Boys, or rather young men, for they are all older than Fred, of lower social rank than himself. I don't attach any special importance to that, nor do I object to them on that ground; but they are, I have reason to think, ill-bred and disreputable. They know Fred to be richer than themselves, and induce him to drink and play, in the hope of getting some of his money. I have sent for you to go in search of my son. If you find him you must do your best to bring him home."
"I will," said Frank. "Can you give me any idea where he may be found?"
Mrs. Vivian wrote on a card two places,—one a billiard saloon, which she had reason to suspect that her son frequented.
"Now," said Frank, "will you be kind enough to describe your son to me, so that I may know him when I see him?"
"I will show you his photograph," said Mrs. Vivian.
She opened an album, and showed the picture of a boy of seventeen, with a pleasant face, fair complexion, and hair somewhat curly. His forehead was high, and he looked gentlemanly and refined.
"Is he not good-looking?" said the mother.
"He looks like a gentleman," said Frank.
"He would be one if he could throw off his evil associates. Do you think you will know him from the picture?"
"Yes, I think so. Is he tall?"