“‘Because, Doctor,’ said the butler, ‘every hour of the day the master insists on sending down for hot shaving water!’ And so you see, Steve, there was a method in his madness, for the doctor knew why he wanted that hot water. You give Toby credit for being a sensible chap. He’s only counting the minutes until that fine fish is done to a turn, and you sound the gong for supper.”
Steve looked a trifle relieved after that, though he still continued to watch the uneasy Toby from time to time, and could be seen shaking his head as if his doubts had returned in full force.
Slowly but surely the glowing orb dropped closer toward the horizon. A doomed prisoner in his cell might have watched its going with dread, 121 as the setting of the sun would bring the hour of his execution nearer; but with Toby it was just the opposite, and he counted every minute as so much gain.
Steve had evidently gauged the appetites of his chums by his own, and fearing the big fish might not go around for a third helping had prepared a panful of the smaller bass besides.
“You never can tell the first time you try out a new dodge,” he offered in explanation of his bountiful provision, “and if after all my oven failed to cook in seven hours why where would we be at for supper tonight, I’d like to know. I’m a great hand for preparedness, you must know, fellows; and here’s a fair taste all around, no matter what happens to the roast fish.”
“But isn’t it time we began to get busy eating,” sighed Toby, looking so woe-begone that Steve, under the impression he must be almost starved, thrust a lot of soda crackers and a piece of cheese into his hand, saying sympathetically:
“There, that will take some of the gnawing away, Toby, and keep you up another half hour. I know how you feel, because haven’t I been there myself many a time? I mean to take a look-in at my dandy oven soon, and if everything is lovely we can start business at the old stand right away.”
Poor anxious Toby, how he did suffer. Evidently he had not been able wholly to clutch the truth, strive as he might; and the solution of the mystery seemed to be dangling there just beyond 122 his reach, as though to tantalize him. Jack himself wished the time would hurry and come so that he might keep his word and “lift the lid,” in the way of explanations.
When Steve went to take a look at the oven Toby insisted on accompanying him; and when the chef declared that the fish was done to a turn Toby beamed with positive delight, as though the long agonizing period of his waiting was now surely drawing near an end.
The big fish was simply elegant. The boys used up all the available adjectives at their command in order to do the subject ample justice. Never had a fish been better baked. Steve looked as proud as any peacock that strutted along a wall in self-admiration. He even promised to repeat the prize supper, if only Toby could duplicate Jack’s catch.