"
The boy flushed.
"I'd like to think so, Mr. Carlton."
"I want you to know so, Van. I happened to see Mr. Hennessey," he
went on in a lower tone, "and he related to me that incident at the
factory. Of course he did not understand it, but I did--instantly.
I appreciated your sense of honor, my boy."
"I wanted to be square."
"You were a gentleman in the very best sense of the word."
A great gladness glowed in Van's eyes, for terse as was the phrase
it bore to him the very recognition he had coveted from Bob's
father. Mr. Carlton, however, did not enlarge upon the subject, but
casting it swiftly into the background asked:
"Are you sure you both would rather spend your last morning in New
York going through a candy factory than doing anything else?
Factories are tiresome places, you must remember."
"But a candy factory could never be tiresome!" asserted Bob.
His father laughed.
"There are just as many miles in a candy factory as any other," he
replied. "Any of the men who work there would tell you that, I
fancy."
"But they are such nice miles!" argued Bob. "Don't you say we go,
Van?"
"I sure do. I want to see how they dip chocolates," Van answered.
"It's all aboard to-morrow morning, then," Mr. Carlton said as he
lit his after-dinner cigar.
"There's one thing, Dad, that it's only fair to warn you about,"
called Bob, turning on the lowest step of the stairway to address
his father. "Our expedition may cost you something.
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