He led the way to the reception room, motioned them to seats and selected a divan on which to place his own heavy form.
“Sail ahead,” he commanded. “No tacking, now; run right before the wind.”
Upon Dave fell the rôle of principal spokesman. The stout boy’s broad smile grew broader as he proceeded. Captain Bunderley’s deep-throated laughter boomed out at frequent intervals.
“Capital—capital! You’ll do, my boy!” he exclaimed. “’Pon my word, you ought to succeed in life.”
“Not even an aeroplane could keep him down!” cried Tom.
Bob Somers, too, had a great deal to say, and by lunch time Uncle Ralph had learned everything worth knowing and much else besides.
Finally he rose to his feet.
“I have a little business to attend to this afternoon, so we’ll get something to eat at once,” he said.
“I was just about to suggest it myself,” murmured Dave.
The dining-room, with its ornate columns and rich decorations of the Louis XV period, was a very attractive-looking place. It suited Dave’s artistic eye to a nicety. A sigh of contentment came from his lips as he took a seat at a table by the window.