'No, no,' the elderly man replied, 'I mean, what are you—what? Not a boy, are you? Not really and truly a boy! Oh say, say you are a boy!'
'Yes,' said Chimp, although for the moment, so intense and unreasonable was the other's excitement about the matter, he almost doubted it. 'Yes, I'm a boy.'
'A boy! a boy!' the elderly man exclaimed joyfully. 'Eureka!' Then he grew calmer, and continued: 'Dear me, this is very interesting. A most fortunate chance! A boy, you say. How extremely happy an accident. Now what kind of boy might you be?'
Chimp was puzzled. 'I suppose,' he thought, 'I ought to call myself a good boy, and yet that isn't exactly how Porker would describe me. And what is more, good boys are such saps.' Then he spoke aloud: 'Well, sir, I'm a fairish specimen of a boy, I think.'
'Good!' said the elderly man. 'Good! An average boy. So much the better. And what does it feel like to be a boy?'
'Whew!' said Chimp to himself, 'I came for breakfast, and all I seem to be getting is an exam.' However, he did his best to answer the question. 'Why, sir,' he said aloud, 'as long as you don't get too many lines and swishings, it feels good to be a boy. But swishing makes it feel bad sometimes.'
'Lines?' inquired the other. 'Swishings? What are they?'
'Why,' said Chimp, 'when Porker canes you, that's swishing, and lines are passages from Virgil which you have to copy out if you make howlers—I mean, if you make mistakes.'
'Yes, yes,' said the elderly man, a little vaguely. 'And so it's good to be a boy?' he added.
A happy thought struck Chimp. 'It is good,' he replied; 'but there are other times when it's bad, besides those I mentioned. When—when you're hungry, for instance.'