"Oh, I say, Mr. Galbraith—" began Bob; but his host interrupted him.
"That is a rather rough accusation, isn't it?" declared he, "and it's not quite fair, either. To tell the truth, Bob's deep in some important work."
There was a light, scornful laugh from Cynthia.
"He is, my lady. You needn't be so incredulous," her brother put in. "Bob is busy with a boat-building project. Dad's got interested in it, too."
Cynthia pursed her lips with a little grimace.
"Ask him if you don't believe it," persisted Roger.
"Yes," went on Mr. Galbraith, "that old chap over at Wilton has an idea that may make all our fortunes, Bob's included."
There was a general laugh.
"Well," pouted Cynthia, glancing down at the toe of her immaculate buckskin shoe, "I call it very tiresome for Bob to have to work all his vacation."
"I don't have to," Robert Morton objected. "I am simply doing it for fun. Can't you understand the sport of—"