"I haven't had my supper yet," Prescott smiled. "Neither has
Darrin."
"Bless me! What a brute I am to forget a boy's stomach!" cried
the tall one. "Here," taking a banknote from his pocket, "I will
have the chauffeur drive you back to town and then return for
us. Take this money and get the best supper you can for two,
at the best restaurant in Gridley."
"Thank you, sir," replied Dick, shrinking back; "our parents wouldn't
allow us to do that."
"Are your parents any easier on such questions?" smiled the stranger,
turning to Darrin.
"Not a bit, sir, thank you," Dave responded.
"I may at least pay you something for your kindness and trouble
in coming out here with me," urged the stranger, still offering
the cash.
But both boys shook their heads, declining with thanks. Neither
had been reared to accept money for doing a human kindness.
"If you don't need us any more," Dick went on, "we'll just find
the road and jog back."
"If you won't accept anything else," retorted the tall man, "you
will at least allow me to send you back in the auto. And you
will also accept the thanks of John Winthrop, and of Colonel Garwood,
whom I represent."
Both boys protested, with thanks, that they were able to get home
on their own feet.
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