CHAPTER VIII
IN CAMP
"I've a nice long vacation ahead of me," announced Father Blair at breakfast one hot summer morning, "and I've set my heart on going to Maine on a camping trip. I don't want any guide to take care of me, yet I do need some one who will help me cook. I had thought of asking you to go, Jack, but as 'boys don't cook'—of course—"
"Oh, but they do camp cooking!" Jack exclaimed enthusiastically; "all sorts of things—bacon, and fried eggs, and corn-bread—"
"But, you see, you can't make any of those, and my digestion being delicate, I don't feel that I can be experimented upon," said his father, with a twinkle in his eye. "Now if only you had taken lessons all these months as the girls have, I might consider taking you."
"I'll learn right off, honestly I will! I'll begin this very day. And I can make cheese dreams, and—and boil eggs, now."
"How long do you boil them, Jack?"
"Till they're done!" said Jack, triumphantly.
Father Blair went off laughing, and said he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stand his son's cooking.