"Yes, sir."
"Well, a few weeks with Nat, before you start out, won't come amiss. A lot of lively youngsters ought to have a fine time together. In my boyhood days we never dreamed of the privileges that the youth of the twentieth century would enjoy. Motor boats, motor cycles, and a lot of other things. You are living in a great era, boys, and should appreciate it."
"It's too bad about Nat," ventured Tom Clifton.
"'All's well that ends well.' I hope that we shall dine together this evening."
Mr. Parsons Wingate smiled affably, and looked from one to the other. Then he added: "I mean, of course, that the Ramblers and Nimrods, alike, are to be my guests.
"Very good!" he exclaimed, when all had politely accepted. "Now, if I can trouble you, we will go to the station."
The Ramblers, with Bob and Mr. Parsons Wingate leading the way, were soon walking briskly toward the police station. When they arrived, which was shortly before ten o'clock, they found the towheaded young man conversing with an elderly gentleman and two others.
"That's the one," whispered Dave.
Nat's uncle walked toward the group and bowed politely. "My name is Parsons Wingate," he began; "very sorry that you should have any misunderstanding with my nephew. Of course, if you suffered any loss, I am willing to make a reasonable settlement."
Mr. Wingate's respectable appearance and pleasant manner seemed to make a favorable impression, but the young man, who evidently considered that he had been intentionally upset, was not disposed to let the matter drop. He introduced himself as Douglass Brown.