“Guess we might as well read our letters,” said Dick, as soon as they were settled.  He was anxious to learn what Dora had written.  He had asked her to write to her mother concerning their proposed marriage.

“Just what I say,” added Tom, and soon he and Sam had settled back, following their big brother’s example.

The communication from Dora was quite long and Dick enjoyed it so thoroughly that he read it twice before stowing it away in his breast pocket.  The girl stated that her mother had left everything to her own judgment and that she, in turn, was willing to leave everything to Dick.

“Dear, dear Dora!” he mused.  “The sweetest girl in all the world!  I only hope I prove worthy of her!” And then he sat back and pictured to himself the happy home they would establish as soon as everything could be arranged.  Had it not been for the cloud concerning his father, Dick would have been the happiest youth in the world.

“Well, they are not doing much at Hope,” remarked Sam.  “Society meetings, fudge patties, and grinding away at themes.”

“Just what Nellie writes,” answered Tom.  “Well, you can’t expect much fun when you are trying to get an education!” And he sighed, as he thought of what was before him at Brill.  In a way, he envied Dick his opportunity to break away and get out into the business world.

It had been too early to get supper before leaving home—­ although their aunt had offered it—­ so about seven o’clock the lads went into the dining car attached to the train.  They found a table for four vacant and took possession, and presently ordered what they wanted.

“Hello! look there!” exclaimed Tom, in a low voice, after looking around the dining car, and he pointed to a man at one of the tables for two.

“It’s that lawyer who settled for the smashed biplane,” returned Sam.  “Must be going to New York, too.”

“Most likely his profession takes him to the city quite often,” remarked Dick.

“Wonder if he’ll speak to us if he sees us,” ventured Sam.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” came from his big brother.  “I didn’t like him at all—­ he was too crafty-like.”

Their food served, the boys fell to eating with that gusto that characterizes youths who are still growing.  They had about half finished when Dick felt himself touched on the arm.  At his side stood Belright Fogg.

“Taking a little trip, eh?” remarked the railroad lawyer, with a bland smile.

“Yes,” answered Dick, shortly.

“To New York, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you got settled about that flying machine, didn’t you?” went on the lawyer, and dropped into the vacant seat opposite Dick, on the side where Tom sat.

“We did—­ but we had some trouble,” replied Tom.

“That was a mistake—­ to remove the machine,” said Belright Fogg.  He gazed at the boys a moment.  “I understand you sold the wreck for quite a price,” he continued.