“Well, did you ever see him shading his eyes with his hand and looking for a chance?”
“John, don’t talk such nonsense,” expostulated Mrs. Vinton, glancing at Dan’s troubled countenance.
“No nonsense at all, my dear,” answered Mr. Vinton. “Dan’s got three of the most useless, shiftless, no-account boys in town for his special chums and I’d like to know just what he sees in them. That’s all. ‘Chad’ Sleeper’s father never did a real lick of work in his life, excepting the time he did the State out of forty thousand dollars on that bridge contract, and ‘Chad’s’ just like him. And young Whipple is no better; and I guess Nourse belongs with them. Look at here, son, aren’t there any smart, honest, decent fellows you can go with?”
“‘Chad’ and Billy and Frank never did anything mean that I know of,” answered Dan resentfully.
“Did you ever know any of them to do anything fine?” asked his father. “Outside of winning a football game, I mean?”
Dan was silent, looking a trifle sulkily at his plate. There was a moment’s pause. Then Mr. Vinton said more kindly:
“Well, I’m not finding fault with you, son. Maybe the boys here are pretty much alike; and as I come to think about it I guess they are. But it’s going to make a difference with you what sort of friends you have during the next five or six years. And if you can’t find the right sort here in Graystone, why—”
But Mr. Vinton paused there and relapsed into a thoughtful silence that neither Dan nor his mother nor even his sister Mae, who was the privileged member of the family, cared to disturb.