They adjourned to the Tree Room where, in hammock and chairs, they talked and talked.
Gradually the talk grew desultory; sank to an occasional silence.
“I was rummaging about in the barn early this morning,” Arthur said out of the reflective quiet in which he had long been immersed, “and I found all kinds of things in a big chest—base-balls and bats; foot-ball stuff and boxing gloves. Do you know how to box, Harold?”
“No,” Harold replied, “never tried it.”
“Want to learn?” Arthur inquired. “I’ll teach you. I’d like the practice.”
“Sure,” Harold said. “When will we begin?”
“To-morrow,” Arthur responded.
“What do you want to practice boxing for, Arthur?” Rosie asked curiously.
“Oh I thought I might need it sometime,” Arthur answered evasively. He smiled into the dark.
“Say!” Rosie burst out suddenly, “did anybody besides me get sun-burned to-day?”