Dr. Emery’s laughter mingled with that of the others.
“But you haven’t guessed my riddle yet,” he reminded them.
“I give it up, sir,” said Chub. “The seventh of August doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“Well, we wish it didn’t to us, don’t we, Harry?” Harry nodded sorrowfully. “It’s the end of our two weeks’ cruise on the Slow Poke,” said the doctor. “It’s the day we were due home.”
“O—oh!” exclaimed the boys in chorus.
“Can’t you stay a little longer, sir?” asked Chub, eagerly. But the doctor shook his head with decision before Harry could get out the words on her tongue.
“No, I’m afraid not, Chub. I’ve an engagement at home the day after to-morrow and some things to look up first. I ought to have been back to-day, I suppose, but I think one day won’t matter. Do you think you can get us back to-morrow?”
“Easy, sir, if you really must go,” answered Chub. But Dick shook his head dubiously.
“Why not?” challenged Roy.
