"There's a difference in exercising," said Mr. Perkins. "Johnnie gets one kind while he's doing his work. But his work is all inside work, out of the fresh air that every boy needs. And certain of his muscles are not developed. I've been correcting that undevelopment by giving him the regular setting-up that we give all boy scouts."
"Shucks, your boy scouts!" sneered Big Tom. "We got no time for 'em. We're poor, and we're busy, and we got a' old, sick man on our hands. That's scoutin' enough!"
"Many men who have boys think as you do," acknowledged Mr. Perkins, serenely. "That is, at first."
"I think it first and second," returned Big Tom, raising his voice. "And also I know it."
"I promise you that it won't hurt Johnnie," urged the scoutmaster.
"Yeh? But I know what would hurt Johnnie, and that's growin' up t' look like you!"
At that, Mr. Perkins burst out in a laugh. It was both good-natured and amused. "Well, my looks suit me," he declared.
"Which is more'n I can say of 'em," retorted Barber. "They don't suit me a little bit!"
Mr. Perkins laughed again. "Sorry," he said, but his tone entirely contradicted his assertion.
Barber kept on: "Your looks don't suit me, and neither does your talk. You're altogether too slick, too pink-and-whity, too eye-glassy, and purple-shirty, and cute-socky, and girl-glovy."