“Whitley, old man!” he gasped in sheer astonishment.
Then followed hand-shaking such as only two old college chums can engage in after a long separation.
“How did it all happen?” inquired Roderick, when the first flush of meeting was over.
“Tell you later,” said Whitley. “Gee, old man, I ought to beat you up for not letting me know all this time where you were.”
“Well, I have been so confoundedly busy,” was the half-apologetic reply.
“And so have I myself. I am taking a post-graduate course just now in being busy. You would never guess what a man of affairs I’ve come to be.”
“You certainly surprise me,” laughed Roderick drily.
“Oh, but I’m going to take your breath away. Since you’ve gone, I’ve become quite chummy with your Uncle Allen.”
“You don’t say?”
“Yes, siree. I think he took to me first of all in the hope that through me he would get news of the lost prodigal—the son of his adoption whose absence he is never tired of deploring.”