“Just the same,” said Dan with dignity, “you haven’t played fair, Gerald, and you know it. You’ve got to tell your father all about it the first time you see him.”
“I’m going to,” answered Gerald gravely. “Will you please telephone over after awhile, Dan, and leave word for him to come over here this evening and see me? I promised to go home for dinner, and he will be worried if he doesn’t hear. And—and you might say that I got wet and was sent to bed.”
“All right,” answered Dan. “I’ll telephone. Do you think—” there was an anxious tone in his voice—“do you think he will be very angry with you, Gerald?” Gerald smiled whimsically.
“I rather think he will, Dan. But I deserve it. Don’t you trouble.”
Presently Alf remarked with a chuckle, as he got up to go;
“Well, I suppose you’ll never be able to scrap with Thompson now, Gerald. Another iridescent dream gone glimmering. Such is life!”
“No,” answered Gerald thoughtfully. “I guess we’re really square at last. If Harry had been drowned—” He broke off with an eloquent shake of his head. “Will you find out how he is after supper, Dan, and let me know?”
“Yes. And now, what do you want to eat?”
“I’m not very hungry,” replied Gerald languidly. “In fact, I think I’ll just—take a nap.” He settled down on the pillow with a contented smile and closed his eyes. Dan and Alf went out quietly, and quietly closed the door behind them.
“He will probably sleep for an hour or two,” said Alf. “We’d better tell them not to send his supper up until seven. The poor kid might as well have all the rest he can get.”