“Let’s see,” he said, “the last time I saw you you were buying old furniture, weren’t you? Ever do any of that sort of thing now?”
“I’m doing a little on the side,” was the reply. “Had a pleasant summer, Mr. Cole?”
“So far, yes, although I’ve been pretty lazy. But then, I generally am lazy. Miss Emery here has just consented to pose for me to-morrow. I’ve got a little sketch in mind that ought to turn out well.” He half closed his eyes, cocked his head on one side and studied Harry for a moment, a proceeding which brought the color into her cheeks and caused Chub to grin maliciously. Billy asked the boys what they had been doing to-day and they gave him a history of events. Harry reminded Roy in a whisper that they were to invite the Poet and the Artist to supper Thursday, and Roy promptly issued the invitations. To Chub’s surprise Billy accepted at once, as did the artist.
“It’s some time, though,” the latter added, “since I’ve attended a birthday celebration, and I don’t know whether I’ll behave myself.”
“We’ll risk that,” laughed Dick. “It won’t be very much of an affair, sir; just some supper here in camp, you know. Harry’s going to hold her real celebration at home in the afternoon.”
“I see. Well, now, look here, boys! I don’t want to upset any plans, but the fact is that I was thinking about having you all on board the Roger some evening while I’m here. And as I don’t suppose I’ll remain here more than two or three days, why can’t we lump the thing and hold the celebration on the boat? You bring your things and I’ll supply the rest, and we can do the cooking in my galley. Now, what do you say?”
The boys hesitated, but Harry clapped her hands in delighted approval.
“That would be dandy!” she cried. “Let’s do that, Dick! Do you mind?”
“No, I think it would be very nice,” answered Dick. And so it was arranged that on Thursday afternoon Dick was to bring their share of the feast to the Jolly Roger, and as chef, was to take charge of the preparation of the feast. Presently Mr. Cole rose to leave.
“By the way, Noon,” he said, “you’re a sort of Jack-of-all-trades. Know anything about gasolene engines?”