“It is human nature, Cranny, to argue from whatever standpoint most closely affects our own interests,” he said. “Now that you can go irrespective of Willie, you are perhaps not quite so willing to undertake the responsible duties of looking after him. Do you still think the boys may be able to liven him up—to prod his slow nature into activity?”
“If they can’t, he’s a hopeless case,” answered Cranny, anxious to redeem himself in his father’s eyes. “A few weeks at Circle T certainly ought to put some ginger into him.”
“I’m glad you think so, though your manner of expressing it is not altogether elegant. Now, of course, you may combine business with pleasure; but the main object is to post me as well as you can. And if you consider it advisable I shall come on. I know you are young for such a mission, but——”
“Young? Why, goodness gracious, I’m almost seventeen!” cried Cranny, in mild astonishment.
His father smiled indulgently.
“When you reach my age, seventeen will not seem like a very long span of life.” He raised his voice: “Willie!”
“Hey?” said Willie.
“I wish to speak to you a moment.”
“What have I done now, I wonder?” murmured the boy.
He plumped himself down in a chair close by, and, with his hands stuffed into his trousers pockets, waited for his guardian to speak.