[Illustration: THEY PULLED BOB THE LENGTH OF THE SMOOTH PORCH.]
“Go on! You did not! You were disqualified by falling!” declared Jerry. “I’m the champion!” and he executed a clog dance on the veranda.
At that moment the front door opened, and there stood Mrs. Hopkins, while behind her were Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker. Mrs. Hopkins did not smile, and there were rather serious expressions on the faces of the two gentlemen.
“Oh, was it you making all the noise, Jerry?” his mother asked.
“I guess we did our share,” admitted Ned, a little sheepishly.
“Come in, boys,” said Mr. Baker. “We have an announcement to make to you.”
“Looks as if something was up,” whispered Bob to Ned, as the three chums slid into the house.
“That’s what it does,” agreed Ned. “I guess Mrs. Hopkins thought we were making too much of a racket on her front stoop.”
“We did raise a sort of row,” commented Jerry, tossing his hat on a peg of the rack. “But mother doesn’t care an awful lot about that. She’s heard noise before. There’s something else in the wind, believe me!”
Mrs. Hopkins, with the fathers of Bob and Ned, had withdrawn from the hall into the library, where they could be heard in low-voiced conversation.
“I wonder what the game is,” came from Ned. “Another family conference! Did you know they were going to have it, Jerry?”
“Unless it’s about us I can’t imagine what it’s for,” he said. “But I reckon it does concern us. Well, we’ll have to take our medicine, I suppose.”
“Come in, boys,” called Mrs. Hopkins. “What we have to say concerns you as much as it does us.”
Rather sheepishly Ned, Bob and Jerry filed into the library, and took seats. Mrs. Hopkins was seated at a table with her two guests, and on this there appeared to be a pile of books, over which a newspaper was thrown, as though to conceal them from view, temporarily at least.
“Seems to me you young men might be a little more quiet in approaching a lady’s house,” remarked Mr. Slade, looking at his son; and his voice was not as good-natured as usual.
“Oh, well, Dad,” came the response, “you see we just had a little race, to decide who’d buy the ice cream sodas, and we did make rather a strenuous finish of it, I guess.”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Mr. Baker, looking at his son. “I thought it was a mad-dog chase at least, banging up on the steps that way. But it only goes to show that it’s high time we took some action in your cases.”