“Scorching—speed laws busted,” grinned Joe.
“Shake, Norman; I am real glad to see you,” said George. “No, Uncle Dan didn’t know I was coming on the ‘Gray Gull.’ Here’s the way it happened.”
And George, seating himself comfortably on the bench, related his story.
“And doesn’t it seem the queerest thing in the world that we should meet like this, Norman?” he commented. “And all on account of these chaps.”
The former tutor’s face had clouded over.
“Yes, it’s very strange,” he said, gravely. “And though I’m more than glad to see you, George, I should advise you to go back.”
“Go back?” echoed George, with a decided shake of his head. “I guess not. Do you think I’d let Pierre crow over me? No, sir—why, he deserves to be fired out, bag and baggage.”
“Certainly did act a bit snippy,” said Jack.
“Must be a fussy fellow,” added Joe. “‘I say to you, goose—pouf,’” and Joe laughed heartily.
“Well,” remarked George, reflectively, “there’s going to be a nice little row. I can feel it coming; but it isn’t my fault. Anyway, I’m tired of being looked after as though I were like a pound of butter on a hot summer day. I’m going to Albany on the ‘Gray Gull.’”