“It’s about our honey,” began Bumpus, seriously.
“What honey?” demanded Giraffe, pretending to look all around. “I haven’t seen any, that I know of.”
“Oh! you know what I mean;” Bumpus went on; “the honey we expect to get, when Allan finds the bee tree. I’m just as dead sure he’s goin’ to do it, as I am of having my breakfast to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I reckon Allan only wishes he was as sure as you are,” Giraffe remarked.
“Let him tell what’s on his mind, can’t you, Giraffe?” broke in Davy Jones. “I think it’s a shame how you badger that poor fellow. Don’t you know there’s a law against cruelty to animals?”
“Monkeys are included under that law, please remember,” retorted the fat boy, as he turned on his new tormentor. “But I suppose you fellows are just dying to know the brilliant thought that just flashed into my mind a little while ago?”
“Go on, and get it out,” begged Step Hen.
“Yes, we want to know, if we’re not from Missouri,” added Allan.
“Well, there isn’t any reason why we should waste a whole lot of it after all, if we only know enough to use our brains, and take advantage of our opportunities,” Bumpus went on, with exasperating slowness, as though this might be his method of getting even for the attack upon him.
“What sort of opportunities?” demanded Davy.