“Dick is getting careless—–­making such an engagement for us for to-morrow evening,” Tom confided to Hazelton, when the news was related to him.

“Well, you won’t need to mind, anyway,” laughed Harry gleefully.  “You, of all fellows, can’t kick, Tom, after the way you’ve been glorifying life in one’s working clothes.”

Dr. Bentley was delighted to have such capable young men as Reade and Hazelton on hand to put on the new tire, for the man of medicine, though a clever surgeon in some lines, was but little of a machinist.  He worked with finer tools than those that his repair box carried.

Twenty minutes later the new tire was on and had been pumped up.

“All ready!” sang out Tom.

“You might have dallied longer on that job,” Dick answered reproachfully.

“Are you anxious to keep us hungry girls away from our luncheon that much longer?” cried Susie Sharp.

“Well, whose fault is it that you are not having your luncheon, here and now?” smiled Prescott.  “You didn’t like our cooking, though.”

“Don’t I?” chirped Miss Sharp.  “If it weren’t for making you vainer than you are, Dick Prescott, I’d tell you that the trout luncheon you gave us at the second lake still lingers in our memories.”

Regretfully, the boys escorted the high school girls down to the road, assisting them and Mrs. Bentley into the car.

“To-morrow evening, then!” called Mrs. Bentley.  “Be at the hotel by half-past five o’clock, won’t you?”

“Without fail,” Dick smiled back, “unless circumstances beyond our control prevent us.”

Good-byes were eagerly called, Dr. Bentley warmly expressing his thanks to Reade and Hazelton for their assistance.  Then, with a warning honk, the big car started away.

Then all hands turned upon Dick.  “Prescott, why on earth did you let us in for a dinner and dance to-morrow night?” quivered Greg.

“Look at us—–­the only outside clothes we have with us!” exploded Danny Grin.

“We’re frights!” chimed in Dave.

“We’ll disgrace the girls,” blurted Tom, “unless in the meantime we can find some real tramps with whom to trade clothes.”

“We’ll feel ashamed enough to drop, when we get among civilized folks,” moaned Harry.

“This is a fine chance to prove or disprove Tom’s theory that a fellow ought to feel most at home in his old working clothes,” chuckled Dick.

“Was that why you did it—–­accepted that dinner and dance invitation?” gasped Dave.

“Partly,” laughed Prescott.

“I won’t go!” flared Reade, his face showing red under its heavy coat of tan.

“Oh, yes, you will,” Dick insisted, “or else admit that you perjured yourself when you idealized your working duds this morning.”

“And are you really going to-morrow night?” Greg insisted.

“I certainly am,” young Prescott affirmed.

That was too much of a poser for the other members of Dick & Co.  Nothing more was said on the subject, though the five boys did considerable thinking.