“Hello, Frank!” he cried in jolly tones, holding out his hand. “I hear you just won a big game.”
“Oh, hello, Dad!” Frank cried, his face lighting up with surprised pleasure, in strange contrast to the former looks that disfigured it. “Say, I wish you could have been here. It was great! We’ve tied Kenwell now. When’d you arrive?”
“Just a little while ago. I had a blowout and it delayed me, otherwise I’d have been here, as I wrote you.”
The two linked arms and walked away, showing mutual affection more like two brothers or chums than any other relationship.
“That’s Frank’s stepfather,” said Bart. “They surely are fond of each other.”
“Frank would do anything for him, so I’ve heard him say,” remarked Bill. “But there’s no use trying to get Frank to do anything about Jerry and his chums.”
Frank and his stepfather, walking toward college, saw three lads approaching them. It was Ned, Bob and Jerry, and just now Frank would have preferred not to encounter them.
Frank made as if to turn to one side, but his stepfather, taking a second look at our heroes, exclaimed:
“Hold on a moment, son. I know those lads!”
“Yes. Hello there!” he cried. “Aren’t you Jerry Hopkins, Ned Slade and Bob Baker?”
For a moment neither of the three chums answered. Then looks of recognition came over their faces.
“Mr. Hobson!” Jerry fairly shouted. “Mr. Hobson!”
“I thought so,” went on Frank’s stepfather, laughing. “I’ve got a pretty good memory for faces. I never expected to see you at Boxwood Hall. Frank, you know these lads, of course?”
Frank was ill at ease. But his stepfather, Mr. Hobson, went on, not seeming to notice.
“Frank,” he said, “I want you to shake hands with three of the pluckiest lads in the world. When I had an accident some time ago--when my auto left the road, rolled down a bank, pinned me under it and then got on fire--these lads raised it off me and got me out in time to save my life. Shake hands with Ned, Bob and Jerry, Frank, and thank ’em for your dad’s life.”
Frank Watson’s face was a study in emotions as he stood beside his stepfather, confronting Ned, Bob and Jerry. He tried to speak, but, for a moment, could not.
“You boys must have shaken hands a lot of times already,” went on Mr. Hobson, “but shake again, Frank, and I will too, for it isn’t every day I have my life saved, you know,” and he laughed, though there was deep feeling in his words.