His "they," Dan assumed, referred to his mother and sisters somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic; and young Thatcher spoke of them in a curiously impersonal and detached fashion.

The whimsical humor that twinkled in his eyes occasionally was interesting and pleasing; and Dan imagined that he was enjoying the situation.

Silk socks and overalls were probably a part of some whim; they certainly added picturesqueness to the scene.

But the city editor must be informed that Edward G Thatcher was beyond his jurisdiction and Dan rose and moved toward the door.
Allen jumped down and crossed to him quickly.
"Oh, I say! I really wish you wouldn't go!" There was no doubt of the pleading in his voice and manner.

He laid a hand very gently on Dan's arm.
"But I've got to get back downtown, if your father has really gone and isn't hidden away here somewhere." "I've cut you a slice right out of the eternal truth on that, old man.
Father will be in New York for breakfast in the morning.