“Pshaw, Morris’ note isn’t worth a cent.”
“Maybe not; I don’t know about that; but he’s morally liable, isn’t he?”
“I guess so. Going to tell Mr. Brent now, Gordie?”
Gordon shook his head. “Not—not right away. I think I’ll see Dick first. I told him I’d be over last night.”
Fudge chuckled again. “You’re scared,” he said. “I’d be, too. Tell you what, Gordie; tell him over the ’phone, why don’t you?”
“I was thinking of letting you tell him, Fudge.”
“Me! Gee, I wouldn’t d-d-do it if he g-g-gave me the car!”
They found Dick on the porch. “Hail to the Hero!” he declaimed.
“Shut up!” said Gordon.
“Modesty is very becoming,” pursued Dick. “Hello, Fudge. I’m glad to see you in such distinguished society. Sit down, Gordie, and tell me about it. First, though, how’s Morris getting on? Lanny told me that he was pretty well broken to pieces.”