“Who says they ain’t?” demanded Dan, with a reckless disregard for all rules of grammar that must have chilled the other boy’s heart. “But they never were meant for boys’ consumption. When we get older we’ll gradually drop reading boys’ stories, and some of us may take up the classics, while others will get out in the busy world and go to work.”
“I don’t know—I’m only telling you what my uncle thinks about it,” pleaded Humbert, weakly.
“Stop and think for a minute, will you?” continued Dan, still waving that threatening forefinger back and forth. “If every boy in Cliffwood were built on the same model as you, Humbert Loft, what a terrible desolation there would be in that poor town. Why, with not a single boy playing ball, or giving a shout when he felt real good, the people would think the end of the world had come. Isn’t that so, Humbert?”
Humbert smiled in a sickly fashion.
“Why, I guess it would seem pretty queer,” he admitted, slowly.
“And another thing, Humbert,” finished Dan as a clincher, “since you’ve been up here with us I’ve noticed that you begin to show some interest in our doings. I really believe you’re beginning to find your real self, and that when we go back to Cliffwood you’ll be a different sort of fellow. Think it over, won’t you, and just join in with the rest of us in our fun? Forget your uncle, and remember that you’re a living, breathing boy, not a mummified classic.”
With that Dan tore away to do something he had in mind. Mr. Holwell touched Dick on the arm, and the two of them retreated without Humbert’s being aware that his heart-to-heart talk with Dan had been overheard.
“See him shaking his head, and then smiling, sir,” said Dick, with considerable interest. “I really do believe those sledge-hammer blows Dan gave him have made an impression on Humbert. Given a week or ten days up here, and he may throw off the heavy load he’s been carrying so long, and act like a regular boy for once.”
“We’ll hope so, Dick,” returned Mr. Holwell. “But while Humbert is growing less pedantic and dropping some of his foolish pose, I trust the rest of you will pick up a genuine love of books. The love of good books is always a joy and sometimes a solace when other things fail one.”
The morning passed away, and those in the camp found many things to do under the supervision of Mr. Bartlett and the athletic instructor.