The two chums caught hold of Bob and pulled him from the chair. Laughingly he protested and made fast to one of the porch pillars to avoid being yanked off.
“Cut it out, fellows! Cut it out!” begged Bob. “It isn’t that at all! I’m not staying here to read a detective story, though I was glancing over this French one while I was waiting. But I’ve got to do something for my uncle, and that’s why I’m staying here. I want to go to the ball game as badly as you fellows do. And I’m coming as soon as a certain man appears with some important papers for Uncle Joel. But I can’t go until then—really, I can’t. Uncle Joel told me to stay here, waiting for this man. It’s very important.”
There was that in Bob’s voice which impressed his chums. They released their holds on him, rather reluctantly be it said, and Bob picked up the book that had fallen to the porch floor, and resumed his seat in the chair, albeit somewhat ruffled by the dragging process.
“Well, that’s different, of course,” admitted Ned as he straightened his collar which had been shifted in the struggle.
“Why didn’t you say at first that you were staying here because your uncle asked you to?” inquired Harry. He and Ned knew the stern qualities of Bob’s Uncle Joel. Though a just man, Mr. Dexter, who was brother to Bob’s dead father, insisted on strict obedience from his nephew, especially in matters of business.
“This is a business matter,” said Bob. “I would have told you fellows, if you’d given me a chance. But you went off, half cocked, and I couldn’t make myself heard.”
“Oh, all right. Maybe we were a bit hasty,” conceded Ned.
“But when we saw you sitting here, doing nothing but reading a detective story, we concluded you didn’t have anything else to do, and that you could just as well as not come to the ball game with us,” added Harry.
“I’d come in a minute if Uncle Joel hadn’t wished this job on me!” declared Bob. “But you know how it is—I’m not exactly my own boss.”
“Yes, we know,” admitted Harry.