Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunching china and an exclamation.
“What’s this?” asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
“It—it’s a plate, sir. Mother—that is——”
“Hm,” said Mr. Merrick, and then again “Hm!” He pushed the broken fragments under the bed. “I—hm—I can understand that you aren’t very hungry,” he said dryly. “Evidently your mother—hm—well, good-night, Gordie.”
The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond the window. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn’t his father would never have called him Gordie.
CHAPTER X
GORDON BEARS A MESSAGE
Gordon was up at seven the next morning, having had, as he reckoned, a good nine hours and more of sleep. At breakfast he told again the story of the accident, this time to an interested audience of three. The third was Fudge, who, since almost an hour before, had been hanging around waiting for Gordon’s appearance, and who now was seated at table with a cup of coffee and one of Mrs. Merrick’s graham muffins in front of him. Fudge acknowledged that he had rather skimped his breakfast. Mr. Merrick mildly censured Gordon for accepting Morris Brent’s invitation to ride, but it was evident that he was too proud of Gordon’s part in the affair to be severe. Fudge was anxious to know what had become of the runabout and Gordon replied that so far as he knew it was just where they had left it.
“I guess,” he said, “it’s pretty badly smashed up. I know one wheel has about all the spokes out of it, and I think the axle is busted. Still, I dare say it can be mended.”
“B-b-bet you Morris will never run it again, though,” said Fudge. “Guess it’s a good chance for someone to buy an auto cheap. Wish I could!”
“Why, William!” murmured Mrs. Merrick. “The idea!”