“No, sir,” he answered. “I guess you’re—pretty white.”
The Doctor bent his head to conceal the smile that trembled about his mouth. Then:
“Well, that’s the way it stands then. Catch up with your studies and you can go back to the ice-boat. But until then—leave it strictly alone and try to forget about it. That’s all, I think. Good morning, Somes.”
“Thank you, sir. Good morning.”
Dick found Chub after dinner and pulled him into a corner of the corridor.
“Easy now,” Chub protested. “This is the last clean collar I’ve got!”
“Never mind your collar,” said Dick. “What I want you to do is to sail the Boreas down to Johnson’s this afternoon and tell him to look after her for me until I call. Do you think you can do it?”
“Sail it? Of course I can,” said Chub. “But what—what’s the matter? Has the Doctor been acting up?”
Dick told what had passed in the office, and at four o’clock Chub and the Boreas passed down the river. Dick, from the study room window, watched them go and then turned with a sigh to his books.