“Bob’s right,” said the commodore sorrowfully. “Suppose we’ve got to eliminate ourselves from his agreeable company for the next three weeks, unless we just naturally happen to meet. We’ll miss a lot of fun, but I guess it’s just got to be. What about that parleyvooing business though, Bob?” “That’s got to be eliminated, too!” from Dickie. “Why, he might tell the truth in Chinese.” “All right, fellows,” said Bob shortly. “You quit tagging and I’ll talk United States.” “Good. I’m off,” said the commodore. And he went. The others followed. Bob was left alone. He found the solitude blessed and began to have hopes once more. Why, he might even be permitted to enjoy a real lonely three weeks, now that he had got rid of that trio. He drew out a cigar and began to tell himself he _was_ enjoying himself when— “Mr. Robert Bennett!” The voice of a page smote the air. It broke into his reflections like a shock. “Mr. Bennett!” again bawled the voice. For the moment Bob was tempted to let him slip by, but conscience wouldn’t let him. He lifted a finger. “Message for Mr. Bennett,” said the urchin. Bob took it. He experienced forebodings as he saw the dainty card and inscription. He read it. Then he groaned. Would Mr. Robert Bennett join Mrs. Ralston’s house-party at Tonkton? There were a few more words in that impulsive lady’s characteristic, vivacious style. And then there were two words in another handwriting that he knew. “Will you?” That “Will you?” wasn’t signed. Bob stared at it. Would he? He had to. He was in honor bound, because ordinarily he would have accepted with alacrity. But a house-party for him, under present circumstances! He would be a merry guest. Ye gods and little fishes! And then some! He gave a hollow laugh, while the urchin gazed at him sympathetically. Evidently the gentleman had received bad news. CHAPTER III—AN INAUSPICIOUS BEGINNING