“I don’t know,” continued Arnold doubtfully, “but what I’d ought to pay for all that gas.” He made a motion toward his pocket again, but Toby waved the idea aside.
“No, we settled that,” he said. “I don’t mind paying half. It was worth it!”
Arnold laughed. Then: “But, hold on! How about this job?” he exclaimed. “Better let me pay you something for it. I’d rather.”
“Oh, shucks, that’s all right. We don’t charge for helping friends out of trouble around here,” answered Toby as he climbed back to the Turnover. “So long!”
“Well, I’m awfully much obliged,” responded Arnold, and his thanks seemed to include Phebe as well. “Good-by.” He took off his cap, something which his companion neglected to do, and waved a farewell as the Turnover moved away. Frank Lamson only nodded, but, as the Turnover circled around toward the harbor, he called across the water: “Say, we’ll race you back!”
But Toby shook his head. “I’m not in racing trim today,” he called back. “Some other time!”
The Frolic passed them presently, doing a good ten miles against the turning tide, and Arnold, standing at the wheel in the bow, waved once more.
“You ought to have been ashamed, Toby,” said his sister severely, “to act like that!”
“Act like what?” inquired the boy innocently.