over there,” replied Roy tranquilly. Chub hesitated, groaned, and finally followed the suggestion.
“Yes, this is from Dickums,” he muttered as he tore off the end of the envelop. “I hope he can come. Who’s yours from?”
“Dad,” answered Roy, settling into his chair and beginning to read. But he wasn’t destined to finish his letter just then, for in a moment Chub had rudely disturbed him.
“It’s all right!” he cried. “Listen, Roy; let me read this to you.”
“He’s coming?” asked Roy eagerly, abandoning his own letter.
“Yes. Listen.” Chub pulled up a chair, sat down, and began to read: “‘Dear Chub: Yours of no date—’”
“Stung!” murmured Roy. Chub grinned and went on.
—“‘received the day before yesterday. I’d have answered before, but things have been pretty busy here. If we can get the house-boat, I’ll go along in a minute. It will be a fine lark. I’m leaving here to-morrow for New York. My dad’s there now, and we’re going to stay somewhere
