IN THE AUTOMOBILE
George Clayton did not broach the subject of his trip that afternoon. Colonel Ellison was still decidedly out of sorts, and George knew from experience how he should be approached.
But the boy had been too long pampered and indulged to make him regard the prospect with any trepidation. The Colonel might object—he often did that, but only to capitulate in the end in the face of his ward’s importunities—and the present case seemed only to call for a little tact.
“I’m going,” muttered the boy to himself, “and I’d like to see anybody try to stop me.”
After dinner that evening Colonel Ellison’s frown had departed and George entered his study with confidence.
“Uncle,” he said, “you remember last week I spoke about going to Albany; well, I’d like to start to-morrow.”
Colonel Ellison laid down his pen, and glanced inquiringly over the rim of his eyeglasses.
“One of your school chums lives there, I believe?” he said.
“Yes, sir; and I want to get a chance to see him again before I’m bundled off bag and baggage to college.”
“Well, I don’t see any objections,” said the Colonel, slowly. “Remember the advice I have given you on previous occasions. And now, George, I’m extremely busy to-night, getting ready for a meeting of the board to-morrow, and I don’t wish to be disturbed under any pretext, as I must take an early train for New York in the morning.”