"Well, yes. Why not? It is all right to play in vacation, isn't it?" the boy retorted, a shade aggressively.
"Possibly if you have earned the vacation by working beforehand."
Ted's eyes fell at that. This was dangerously near the ground of those uncomfortable, inevitable confessions which he meant to put off as long as possible.
"Do you mind if I go out now?" he asked with unusual meekness after a moment's rather awkward silence.
"No, indeed. Go ahead. I've had my say. Be back for supper with us?"
"Dunno." And Ted disappeared into the adjoining room which connected with his uncle's. In a moment he was back, expensive panama hat in one hand and a lighted cigarette held jauntily in the other. "I meant to tell you you could take the car repairs out of my allowance," he remarked casually but with his eye shrewdly on his guardian as he made the announcement.
"Very well," replied the latter quietly. Then he smiled a little seeing his nephew's crestfallen expression. "That wasn't just what you wanted me to say, was it?" he added.
"Not exactly," admitted the boy with a returning grin. "All right, Uncle
Phil. I'm game. I'll pay up."
A moment later his uncle heard his whistle as he went down the driveway apparently as care free as if narrow escapes from death were nothing in his young life. The doctor shook his head dubiously as he watched him from the window. He would have felt more dubious still had he seen the boy board a Florence car a few minutes later on his way to keep a rendezvous with the girl about whom he had not wished to talk.