And then she walked severely down into the kitchen.
“Do you generally intend to sit in here?” asked Chap. “You never did when your uncle was at home.”
“I could have, if I had wanted to,” said Phil.
“And of course you want to now,” remarked his friend. “Some things make a great difference, don’t they?”
“Yes, I suppose they do,” said Phil.
“Now, I want to tell you, Phil!” cried Chap, with great animation. “I’ve been considering this matter all the morning, and I’ve come over to tell you what I’ve thought out. You can get eight-ounce cartridges of giant-powder at Boontown for twenty-five cents apiece. If I were you I’d buy five, and then we can go down and blow up the wreck the first night after we get them. It ought to be done at night, so that the flying timbers wouldn’t strike boats.”
Phil burst out laughing.
“You old humbug!” he cried. “Do you suppose that the first thing I am going to do is to blow up that ancient wreck?”
“You might get thousands of dollars out of it!” exclaimed Chap; “and I guess your uncle would be glad of that.”
“Thousands of splinters!” exclaimed Phil. “But you needn’t think I’m going to do anything of that kind the minute I take charge of things here.”