“Now I know what disturbed my guardian,” said George, with a low whistle. “Why didn’t you tell me at first?”
“Thought we’d let it go for a while,” grinned Joe.
“Well—Norman is a peach,” said George, slowly. “But Uncle Dan is awfully set against him, and I guess it didn’t do him a bit of good to come here. Too bad. Honest, I never knew what the row was about. I asked Norman, but he’s a sensitive chap, and grew red in the face, and stammered; and Uncle Dan said, ‘It’s not necessary for you to know, young man,’ and when he says ‘young man’ to me that ends it. But I’d stick up for Norman every time.”
“And so should I,” said Jack, warmly. “Wish we could help him out.”
“But how can we, when none of us even knows what it’s about?” said George, in a perplexed tone. “Jiminy, I’ll try to get him to tell me. Let’s go down to the house-boat.”
But Norman Redfern was nowhere to be seen, and, after waiting for some time, George took his leave.
“Remember, fellows, keep an eye open for a big gasoline tank and cushioned seats,” were his parting words.
“And now, Joe, what do you think of the millionaire boy?” asked Jack, when the former was out of hearing.
“He’s all right,” said Joe.