When dinner was over it was much too late to go anywhere, Mr. Pennimore decided. Gerald was disappointed, but Dan was secretly glad enough to sit down in a big, sleepy chair in front of the library fire and just let the comfort and hominess of the place soak in. Mr. Pennimore found lots of questions to ask, and it kept the two boys busy answering them.
“You see, son,” said Mr. Pennimore, “your letters are very interesting, but you’ve got an exasperating way of paying no attention to the questions I ask in mine. Have you been homesick, Gerald?”
Gerald shot a glance at Dan, but that youth was studying the flames as though he hadn’t heard the question.
“Some, sir,” answered Gerald, “once or twice.”
“Getting over it now, though, I presume? That’s right; just realize that Yardley’s to be your home for the next few months and get settled down. Have you made the acquaintance of any more of the boys?”
“I—I don’t know any of them very well yet, sir.”
“Of course not; all that takes time, I suspect. You spoke of two of the boys in one of your letters. What were their names?”
“Loring and Dyer,” answered Gerald. “They’re—they’re Second Class fellows, and so I don’t know them very well.”
“Oh, I gathered from what you wrote that you did.” Gerald looked uneasily at Dan.
“Well, Loring’s going to give you boxing lessons,” he said. “You know him well enough for that. Gerald has an idea that fellows don’t care about him unless they come right out and say so,” Dan explained.