“He can call me up on the telephone, if he likes, any time to-morrow before eight or after six. I shall be glad to have them use the yacht. I’d like to go along—if it wouldn’t infringe some mysterious law—but I shall have to be in the city Friday if I’m to take a holiday on Saturday.”
“Then you’ll want the yacht, sir,” said Dan.
“Oh, no, I’ll use the train for once. Well, I’ll leave the matter in your hands for the present. And see that this boy stays in bed the rest of the evening, Dan. Now, I must be getting back.” At the door he laid a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Gerald and I, by the way, have been discussing canoes, Dan, and we’ve decided that they’re a bit too dangerous for young boys. Good night, good night! You’re to come over to dinner Sunday, Dan. Or—” Mr. Pennimore paused, smiled, and turned back into the room. “Look here, Gerald, how would you like to entertain the Baseball Team at dinner Sunday, eh?”
Gerald sat up eagerly.
“I couldn’t do it, sir, but you could! Will you? That would be just dandy, wouldn’t it, Dan?”
“Fine!” said Dan enthusiastically. “But there’s an awful lot of them, sir.”
“How many?”
“Pretty near twenty.”
“Pshaw, we can handle thirty if we can find them! The more the merrier, boys! I guess after the sort of training table food you told me about the other day, Dan, they’ll relish a change, eh? I’ll tell the cook to plan all the sweet, indigestible things he can think of—and pile on the whipped cream! We won’t say anything about this yet. I’ll see Doctor Hewitt and talk it over with him first. Good night, son. Get a good long sleep. Good night, Dan.”