“Aw, cu-cu-cut it out!” grumbled Fudge. “You f-f-fellows m-m-m-m——”
“You’ll never do it, Fudge,” said Gordon sympathetically. “I’ve noticed that if you don’t make it the first two or three times you——”
“——M-make me tired!” concluded Fudge breathlessly but triumphantly.
“Snappy work!” approved Lanny. “If at first you don’t succeed——”
“T-t-try, try again,” assisted Gordon. Fudge muttered something both unintelligible and uncomplimentary, and Gordon turned to Dick: “How did you get on with Mrs. Thingamabob at the Point, Dick?” he asked. “What’s the kid like?”
“All right. The name is Townsend. They’re at the hotel. The boy is thirteen and he’s—he’s a bit spoiled, I guess. There’s an older brother, too, a fellow about seventeen. He confided to me that I’d have a beast of a time with the youngster. His name—the brother’s—is Loring Townsend. Anybody know him?”
There was no response, and Dick continued:
“He seemed rather a nice chap, big brother did. As for the kid—his name is Harold, by the way——”
“Fancy names, what?” said Gordon. “Loring and Harold.”
“No fancier than your own,” commented Fudge, still a trifle disgruntled. “Gordon! Gee, that’s a sweet name for a grown-up fellow!”