At last, at the end of two weeks, Frank began to feel bored.
“I didn’t come to Paris to see tombs,” he declared, almost fiercely. “Think of coming to Paris, the gayest city in the world, to visit tombs! Besides that, I have seen the tomb of Napoleon already, and that is quite enough.”
“But——” objected the professor.
“It’s no use,” cried the boy. “I won’t go!”
“An’ when he says he won’t, yeou kin bet yeour boots he won’t,” drawled Ephraim Gallup, who was lounging in an easy-chair, with his long legs piled on top of a small table. “I know him.”
“I never saw such a boy!” stormed the professor, in his big, hoarse voice. “What is the use to travel in order to broaden one’s knowledge of the world unless one sees everything he can? If your uncle had lived——”
“I’d still be in the military school at Fardale. There’s no question about that.”
“But think of the things you have not seen in Paris!”
“Think of the things I have seen! Thirteen tombs! Oh, say! I’ve had a great time seeing things put down in the guidebooks, but now I’d like to see something the guidebooks do not mention.”
Professor Scotch held up both hands, a look of horror on his face.