"I'm going to stay a boy all my life, Uncle Randolph," answered Tom, promptly. "By the way," he went on, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "how is scientific farming getting on?"
"Splendidly, Thomas, splendidly."
"Not losing money any more, then?"
"Well—er—I have lost a little, just a little, this summer. But next summer I expect grand results."
"Going to grow a new kind of turnip?"
"No I—"
"Or maybe it's a squash this time, uncle."
"No, I am trying—"
"Or a parsnip. I have heard there is a great call for parsnips in New
Zealand. The natives use them for dyeing—"
"Thomas!" interrupted his father, sternly. "Please don't start to joke so early. To-morrow will do."