I believe, though, it was I who suggested
it."
"Humph!" murmured Mr. Carlton. He mused a moment. "I suppose it
would do no harm," he said at last, half to himself.
"Harm!"
"No, no! Of course not," interrupted Mr. Carlton hurriedly. "The
process is an open secret anyway, except perhaps--Oh, I guess it
would be all right."
Bob regarded his father with a puzzled stare.
"I will arrange for you and Van to go through the works right away,"
continued Mr. Carlton. "It simply will be necessary for me to
telephone the superintendent and tell him you are coming so he will
have some one on hand to explain things to you. This was your
scheme, you say?"
"Yes, sir. Why?"
"Nothing, nothing," was Mr. Carlton's enigmatic reply.
He was as good as his word, for despite his peculiar reluctance in
the matter he lost no time in perfecting the plan, and the next
morning after the party reached New York he informed the boys that
the motor-car would be at the door at nine o'clock to take them to
the refinery.
Bob and Van, to whom New York was more or less of an old story,
hailed this announcement with pleasure and promptly stowed
themselves away in the big limousine which was to whirl them to Long
Island where the works were located. All the way out Van was
singularly silent, and appeared to be turning something over in his
mind; once he started to speak, but checked himself abruptly.
Bob watched him uneasily.
"I believe you've lost your enthusiasm about sugar," said he at
last, "and did not really want to come.
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