"It's too bad," murmured Dick. "Mr. Page is a fine-looking man,
but he must be lonely."

"He is," agreed Lon Hibbert.

"His wife is dead, isn't she?"

"Yes; and Page would give the world to find that boy of his."

"Perhaps if he doesn't find his son it may be as well," Dick hinted.

"Why, as well?"

"The missing son, brought up by others, might have turned out
badly," Prescott suggested.

"Pooh!" quickly rejoined Lon Hibbert. "That missing son, no
matter how wild or bad he may be, is still young enough to reform.
Prescott, no matter how bad that son may be, it will be a blessing
for my friend Page to find his boy! I pray that it may be my
good fortune to run across that son, one of these days, and that
I may be the first to recognize the boy."

"Prescott," broke in Mr. Ross, coming forward, "you don't begin
to have enough knives, forks and plates to take care of this crowd,
do you?"

"I'm sorry to say that we haven't," Dick smiled. "But we'll manage
that all right. My friends and I will play waiters, and sit at
second table after the dishes have been washed."