“No, he isn’t to hear anything about it,” replied Dan, firmly. “I don’t mind being called up myself, but as Gerald’s father holds me kind of responsible for the kid’s behavior, I prefer to have him stay out of it.”
“All right,” agreed Alf. “I’ll see the others, though, and I guess we’ll have a merry little expedition.”
It was all very well, however, for Dan to talk about leaving Gerald out of the fun, but not so easy to do it. It didn’t take Gerald long the next day to discover that something was up. Alf appeared in 28 Clarke just before dinner, breathless and mysterious, with his shoes muddy from the road to Greenburg, and led Dan out into the corridor to consult with him in whispers. Gerald said nothing then, but it was very evident to him that something was afoot, and that whatever it was, he was not to be invited to participate.
In the afternoon Dan was absent from the room; and when, seeking him, Gerald walked into 7 Dudley, the conversation stopped suddenly, and an air of constraint was apparent until Gerald invented an excuse for retiring. Not being in a mood to welcome solitude, he crossed over to Whitson and ascended to Number 20. He found both Arthur Thompson and Harry Merrow at home. As usual, the latter was deep in his stamps, while Arthur, his trunk pulled into the middle of the room, was packing.
“I haven’t started yet,” said Gerald, morosely, seating himself on Harry’s bed, for the reason that the chairs and the other bed were strewn with Arthur’s clothes.
“You haven’t?” Arthur observed him in mild surprise. “Aren’t you going to?”
“To-night’s time enough.”
“Yes, only—” He leaned over Gerald, and dropped his voice. “What time are we going to start?”
“Start where?”