"Frank Wernberg," said Bob.
"Wernberg?" exclaimed Karl. "Does his father live down on the corner here?"
"Yes."
"I don't like that man," said Karl soberly. "I hope he's not a friend of yours."
"He is not," exclaimed Bob warmly. "What do you know about him, Karl?"
"Nothing much; I just don't trust him."
"No one seems to like him," laughed Bob. "I guess he won't bother us for some time to come though now."
"Why not?" demanded Karl quickly.
"He's sick."
"What's the matter with him?"