"About noon, I think, sir."
"Where will the houseboat dock?"
"Down the river," and the man mentioned a certain dock.
"Thanks," said Tom, as he turned away.
"Depend upon it, Tom," asseverated Ned stoutly, "Mary doesn't know Barton's character or she wouldn't even dance with him, let alone going off on houseboat parties."
"That remains to be seen," and Tom's voice had a bitter tone in it. "That remains to be seen."
"Where are you going?" asked Ned as he climbed up to the seat beside his chum.
"Down to the dock to wait for the arrival of that houseboat. We'll park there, get something to eat, and freshen up a bit. I want to have a little conversation with Mr. Floyd Barton."
Ned could guess the interview would not be exactly pleasant for Mr. Floyd Barton, and he smiled grimly.
It was so early that the passage of the big auto through the streets of Chesterport attracted little attention this time. The dock was found without difficulty, and in a vacant space near the river Tom parked his House on Wheels. Then he and Ned got breakfast, of which they stood in considerable need.