"Here comes
Frank in to see you."
Bob swung around just in time to see Frank Wernberg on a bicycle turning
into the driveway. He rode a few yards and then suddenly turned around
and rode out again. Coming to the street once more he dismounted from his
bicycle, and gazed back at the Cooks' house as if he was debating
whether he should go in or not. Finally, however, he seemed to decide
against that course and jumping on his wheel rode off down the street.
"He lost his nerve," exclaimed Hugh. "You ought to have called to him."
"A fine chance of that," snorted Bob. "If he wants to he can come in here
and see me, but I won't run after him."
"Who was that boy?" asked Karl curiously.
"Frank Wernberg," said Bob.
"Wernberg?" exclaimed Karl. "Does his father live down on the
corner here?"
"Yes."
"I don't like that man," said Karl soberly. "I hope he's not a friend
of yours."
"He is not," exclaimed Bob warmly. "What do you know about him, Karl?"
"Nothing much; I just don't trust him.
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