"I guess he'll join them later on; that's his home!"
Hugh pointed to a low stone house that stood some distance in from the road, beyond a well-trimmed hedge and broad stretch of lawn, with grape-arbors and barns showing in the rear.
"Why, his folks must be well off," said Laura in surprise.
"Old man Griffin owns the boat-yards over in Westville."
"Well, his son might find better company than that, surely!"
"Mark's been away at school most of his life and when he came home this vacation, the first thing we knew he was hobnobbing with that gang. They steal and play cards and torture animals!"
"Horrors!"
"I don't think he would torture anything, he doesn't look like that kind of a boy!" exclaimed Alene, warmly.
"Might as well be bad as in bad company," returned Hugh, with that "preacher air" of his which Alene always found exasperating.
"Mark and Jack Lever used to be thicker'n flies, but I've not seen 'em together this year," interposed Mat.