“I don’t know but I might,” was the reply after a moment’s thought. “I’ll have to spruce up a little first, though. Can you wait a few minutes?”
“Easy! We don’t need to start for an hour yet, I guess. You going along, Chub?”
“Sure,” replied Chub cheerfully. “Church for mine!”
“Thought you said your foot was too bad,” observed Roy suspiciously.
“Well, you didn’t tell me you were going in the launch, did you? Sea-trips are beneficial to invalids.”
Billy was back shortly and a little before ten they started off. The Pup ran splendidly and they reached the cove long before church-time. As they passed up the street they encountered the freight-handler who had helped them get the launch into the water. They didn’t recognize him until he spoke to them, for he had his Sunday clothes on and was quite a respectable looking citizen. As he passed Chub turned to have a further view of him. The freight-handler had also turned his head and as their glances met, the latter nodded and:
“A fine morning after the rain,” he called cheerily.
But Chub made no answer. He went on silently for the next block, stumbling over two curbstones and thinking busily. Even if he had made a mistake in thinking that he had heard Billy Noon’s voice last night, he was positive that he was making no mistake now. One of the men in the boat was the freight-handler! Chub was stumbling over his third curb when Billy, who was walking beside him, put out a hand quickly and steadied him.
“Here,” he said, “that isn’t good for your ankle. Maybe we’re walking too fast for you?”
“Not a bit of it,” murmured Chub.