"Mr. Damon may bother him, though he wouldn't mean to," thought Tom. "He seemed to have his mind filled with some new idea. I wonder if it is anything like mine? No, it couldn't be. Well, I'll soon find out," and, putting his foot on the accelerator, Tom sent the machine along at a pace that soon brought him within sight of his home.
"Is father all right?" he asked Mrs. Baggert, who was out on the front porch, as though waiting for him.
"Oh, yes, Tom, he's all right," the housekeeper answered.
"Is Mr. Damon with him?"
"No."
"He hasn't gone home, has he?"
"No, he's around somewhere. But some one else is with your father. Some visitors."
"Any relations?"
"No; strangers. They came to see you, and they're rather impatient. I came out to see if you were in sight. Your father sent me."
"Are they bothering him—talking business that I ought to attend to when he's ill? That mustn't be."