"it's all very fine to imagine such a thing; but suppose you made a mistake—think of the grief of this couple? He hasn't noticed anything you said, so just keep a quiet tongue in your head a little while longer."
"But Frank, sure you wouldn't keep him in suspense any longer, now that he knows he wronged the boy," protested Lanky, plainly disturbed.
"A few more hours won't hurt any," persisted his chum, "and it'll give you a chance to make good. You want to be dead sure you're right before you tell him. See Bill, and put it to him straight. Then, if he confesses, bring him here, or take the old man to him. Do you get my point now?"
"Y—es," replied Lanky, somewhat slowly, as if loth to postpone the pleasant surprise he hoped to spring on the parents of pretty Dora Baxter.
"Then get that look off your face. Anybody would believe you knew the secrets of the universe to watch you. Try and seem natural. He's getting up, now, and begins to realize that he isn't alone."
Mr. Baxter slowly reached his feet. His face was white, and in his eyes rested a most forlorn and mournful look. Frank's heart reproached him for having influenced Lanky to hold off even for a short time, because it seemed to be only adding to the load being borne by the repentant father.
"It's too bad," muttered Lanky.
