hospitals to endow,
and enough other ways of putting all I've got where it'll do some good.
I've worked too hard and too long for my fortune to have a fool scatter
it to the winds. You can come down to the hotel with me for supper.
After that I'll foot the bills for your little excursion, and then go
over alone to see Principal Blodgett. And let me say right now that
it'll be a pretty important interview for you."

Lane, Spurling, and Stevens, their tennis over, were starting for their
boarding-house. Crossing the campus, they met Percy and his father. The
former nodded soberly. Whittington, senior, a cross of court-plaster on
his right cheek, passed them without a glance.

"Percy doesn't look very happy," remarked Stevens, when they were at a
safe distance.

"Just a passing cloud," grinned Lane. "It takes more than a little thing
like junking a thousand-dollar auto to bother Percy. He'll forget all
about it before to-morrow."

"See that dreadnought jaw on his father? If I was Percy I'd be kind of
scary of that jaw. John P. Whittington isn't a man to stand much
monkeying, or I miss my guess."

"Well, we've got troubles of our own, and no dad with a fat
bank-account to foot the bills. Why so still, Jim? Something on your
mind, eh?"

Jim's forehead was wrinkled.

"Wait!" was all he deigned.

Back in his room, after supper, he unbosomed himself: "A week ago I had
a letter from Uncle Tom Sprowl. He lives in Stonington, on Deer Isle,
east of Penobscot Bay; but most of the time he fishes and lobsters from
Tarpaulin Island, ten miles south of Isle au Haut. Last month, just
after he had started the season in good shape, he was taken down with
rheumatism, and the doctor has ordered him to keep off the water for
three months. Now that island is one of the best stands for fish and
lobsters on the Maine coast. Somebody's going to use it this summer. Why
shouldn't we? If we have reasonably good luck, we can clear up two
hundred and fifty dollars apiece for the season's work. I've talked the
thing over with Mr. Blodgett, and he thinks it's all right. Of course
we'd be in for a lot of good hard work; but it's healthy, and we're all
in first-class trim. We'd soon get hardened to it. Now, boys, it's up to
you."

Lane hesitated.

"Do you think that two such farmers as Throppy and I could make much of
a fist at fishing?"

"Sure thing! I can show you how. I've fished since I was ten years old."

"Where did you say the isla