"
He laughed boyishly.
"Speaking of fathers, where's Dad, Mater?"
"He stopped to put another log on the fire. Come in and see what a
blaze we have ready for you."
The two boys followed her into the hall, while David staggered at
the rear of the procession with the luggage.
Mr. Carlton came forward.
"This is Van Blake, Father," Bob said, proudly introducing his chum.
"I'm glad to see you, young man," Mr. Carlton responded. "Bob's
friends will always find a welcome from us."
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Carlton reflected a moment then asked abruptly:
"I don't suppose you happen to be a connection of the Colorado
Blakes."
"I come from Colorado," replied Van quickly.
"You're not one of the sugar Blakes; not Asa Blake's son."
"Yes," cried Van. "Mr. Asa Blake is my father, and he is in the beet
sugar business. Do you know him?"
"I believe I've met him," Mr. Carlton admitted hurriedly, stooping
to push the glowing back-log a little further forward.
"Why, Father--"
Bob was interrupted.
"Come, boys," said Mrs. Carlton bustling in. "I guess you've warmed
your fingers by this time. Bob, take Van up-stairs and tumble out of
those fur coats as fast as ever you can so to be ready for dinner."
The lads needed no second bidding. They were up-stairs and back in
the dining-room in a twinkling, and so eagerly did they chatter of
their plans for the morrow that hungry though they were they almost
forgot to eat.
"There are so many things to do that it is hard to decide where to
begin," declared Bob.
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