The High School Boys in Summer Camp | Page 5

a nod from Darrin the others fell in line. Mr. Hibbert led the way
across the street, entering the shop, which proved to be empty of other
customers.
As the waitress approached the two tables to take the orders for ice
cream the host of the occasion turned to his guests.
"Give the young woman your orders, gentlemen," said Alonzo Hibbert.
"Strawberry," said Tom.
"Vanilla," requested Dave.
"Oh, fudge!" interposed their host.
"We haven't any fudge ice cream, sir," remarked the waitress without
smiling.
"I cried fudge on their orders," remarked Hibbert gayly. "They are too
modest. Young woman, have you still some of those cantaloupes,
which you cut open and fill with different flavors of cream and water
ice?"

"Yes, sir."
"Then, young gentlemen, permit me to change the order to one of those
cantaloupes for each of you."
The waitress departed on her errand, while Reade and Darrin glanced at
each other, somewhat aghast. The delicacy ordered by Mr. Hibbert cost
a quarter of a dollar a portion.
When the orders were brought and placed on the table, Alonzo Hibbert
draw from his pocket a roll of bills, stripping off the outermost and
handing it to the waitress. Yet their host gave no sign of attempting to
make a vulgar display of his money. He seemed rather unconscious of
the possession of it.
"Are these favorites of yours?" inquired Mr. Hibbert presently of Greg,
indicating the multi-colored load of ices, each resting in a half of a
cantaloupe.
"Not exactly favorites," Greg replied. "We don't often have the money
to spend on such an expensive treat."
"Don't you?" inquired Hibbert in a tone of considerable surprise, as
though wondering why everyone in the world wasn't as well supplied
with money as he himself was.
Then, after a pause, their host asked of Greg:
"Would you like always to have plenty of money?"
"I suppose everyone would like that," murmured young Holmes.
"Shall I make a prediction?" inquired Hibbert.
"By all means, if it pleases you," Greg answered politely.
"Then, Greg Holmes, I venture to assert that you will very shortly find
yourself a millionaire."

This was said with so much earnestness, and apparent sincerity, that all
five of the chums now regarded their host intently.
"How soon is that going to happen?" Greg laughingly inquired.
"Within a week," Alonzo Hibbert replied as seriously as ever. He
glanced at Greg with a look full of friendly interest.
Tom Reade snorted, almost audibly, then drew down the corners of his
mouth to keep himself from laughing outright. Dave, too, took another
swift look at their smiling young host.
"I wish you were a sure prophet," murmured Greg trying hard not to
laugh.
"I am," declared Mr. Hibbert seriously. "Mind what I tell you, Greg
Holmes, within a week you will know yourself to be a millionaire."
"Real money?" demanded Greg.
"Real money," nodded Hibbert positively. "Or else it will be in stocks,
bonds or real estate that could be converted into real money."
By this time, Tom, Dave and the others, Greg included, had taken
Alonzo Hibbert's measure or believed they had. Their host, then, was a
lunatic. A harmless and very amiable lunatic, to be sure, yet none the
less the victim of a deranged mind.
"Eaten up your creams?" asked Mr. Hibbert, glancing around. "Then
we'll have another apiece."
He signaled the waitress, giving the order.
"Don't ask me---yet---how I know," continued their host, turning once
more to Greg Holmes, "but you're going to find yourself a millionaire
within a week. I know it. It's all in your ear."
As he spoke Hibbert gave Greg's right ear a playful tweak.

"All in Greg's ear?" muttered Tom Reade under his breath. "I knew that
from the outset."
"All in your ear, Holmes!" Hibbert repeated. "Yet it will all be very real
money. Oh, won't you be astonished!"
"I---I think I shall, when the wealth rains down upon me," murmured
Greg, now afraid to raise his eyes to meet the mocking glance that
Darry was sending toward him.
At this moment the stranger of the railway station entered the room,
then came toward the table.
"Mr. Hibbert, here is the man who was inquiring for you at the station,"
Tom announced in a low voice.
Hibbert turned, glancing inquiringly at the stranger.
"Are you Mr. Hibbert?" asked the latter.
"Yes," nodded the man in the four-quart hat. "My name is Colquitt,"
explained the stranger. "I am from-----"
"Er---yes, quite so," murmured Mr. Hibbert. "And here is the boy. He is
named Greg Holmes. Do you observe his right ear?"
"I do," Colquitt assented, after a swift, keen glance.
"He is the boy," Hibbert repeated after a moment's hesitation.
"Where do you live, young man?" asked Colquitt.
Greg supplied the name of his street