Part 9 (1/2)

”What brings you here?” asked d.i.c.k.

”Why, don't you know, my folks moved up to Albany from New York--father's in the State Senate now, you know,” returned Frank, with pride.

”Oh, that's so--and you are a senator's son,” put in Tom. ”I guess we'll have to tip our hats to you after this and call you Mr. Harrington.”

”Stow it, Tom, and keep your jokes until school opens,”

interrupted Frank. ”Yes, we live here, and I thought you knew all about it. I sent you a letter.”

”We've been away from home for several weeks,” explained d.i.c.k, and told of their outing on the water.

”It must be jolly. My father owns a boat, but we seldom use it.

So you are going to stay in Albany over tomorrow? If that's the case you must come up to our house. I won't hear of your going to a hotel.”

”Will that arrangement suit your folks?” questioned d.i.c.k.

”Oh, yes! The girls are all away--down to Asbury Park--and so is mother; and father and I and the servants have the whole mansion to ourselves. I can tell you, it's just a bit lonely at times, and I'm real glad you came,” concluded Frank.

”If your father is a senator perhaps you can get us a pa.s.s through the Capitol building,” put in Sam.

”You won't need a pa.s.s. I'll go with you. But, Sam, you look sick.”

Sam's tale had to be told to Frank, who, meanwhile, led the way to a street car. Boarding this, the boys soon reached the Harrington mansion, located on one of Albany's finest thoroughfares. Here they met Senator Harrington and were speedily introduced.

”I've heard of you before,” smiled the senator. He was a pleasant-looking man of forty-five. ”Frank says the Rover boys were the whole school--or something like that.”

At this there was a laugh. ”I guess he must have been one of the Rovers, then,” rejoined Tom; ”he was just as good as any of us.”

And then there was another laugh, and the newcomers felt perfectly at home.

There was a concert company in town, and, receiving permission from his father to do so, Frank took his friends to see the performance. The singing was very good; and, despite the fact that it was still warm weather, the concert hall was packed.

The program was a long one, and, with the numerous encores, did not come to an end until nearly eleven o'clock.

”That was immense,” remarked Tom, when they were coming out. ”I wish I could sing like that tenor.”

”We ought to get up a quartet at the Hall,” put in Frank. ”I understand they had a singing club year before last.”

”We're going to have a banjo club,” said d.i.c.k.

”Larry Colby wrote to me about it. He has a new banjo that cost fifteen dollars, and he--”

d.i.c.k broke off short as a slouchy-looking man brushed against him. The eyes of the man and the boy met, and then the man disappeared in the crowd as if by magic.

”Well, I never!”

”What's the matter, d.i.c.k?” came from all the others.

”Didn't you see him?”

”See who?”