Provincetown had been selected as
the first certain port of call and most of the thirteen boys found mail
awaiting them. Only Neil, however, received tidings of importance, and
his letter from his parents brought an exclamation of dismay to his
lips.
"Anything wrong?" asked Ossie, sitting beside him on the rail of the
hotel porch.
"Rotten," replied Neil disgustedly. "I've got to go home!"
"Go home!" echoed the other. "What for?"
"Dad's got to go to England on some silly business or other," explained
Neil gloomily, "and he wants me to stay with mother. Of course I ought
to. Mother's sort of an invalid and there's no one else. But it's rotten
luck." He stowed the letter in his pocket and stared disappointedly at
the passing traffic. "I was having a bully time, too," he muttered
disconsolately.
"That's a shame," said Ossie sympathetically. "When will you have to
go?"
"He wants me to meet him in New York Sunday. He sails early Monday
morning. I suppose I'll have to go tomorrow. Guess I'd better get a time
table and see how the trains run."
"Gee, I'm sorry," murmured Ossie.
And so, for that matter, was every other member of the _Adventurer's_
company for Neil was well liked. And the _Follow He's_ crew were
scarcely less regretful.
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