“The less the better,” quoth Geoff, cheerily; “then you’ll have to polish up your mental jewels.”
“Which you consider imitation, I suppose,” sniffed Polly.
“Perish the thought!” cried Jack. “But, speaking of mental jewels, you should see the arrangements Geoff has made for polishing his. He has actually stuck in six large volumes, any one of which would be a remedy for sleeplessness. What are you going to study, Miss Pol-y-on-o-mous Oliver?”
“Now, Jack, let us decide at once whether you intend to be respectful or not. I don’t propose to expose myself to your nonsense for two months unless you make me good promises.”
“Why, that wasn’t disrespectful. It is my newest word, and it simply means having many titles. I’m sure you have more than most people.”
“Very well, then! I’ll overlook the irreverence this time, and announce that I shall not take anything whatever to read, but simply reflect upon what I know already.”
“That may last for the first week,” said Bell, slyly, “but what will you do afterward?”
“I’ll reflect upon what you don’t know,” retorted Polly. “That will easily occupy me two months.”
Fortunately, at the very moment this stinging remark was made, Phil Noble dashed up to the front gate, flung his bridle over the hitching-post, and lifted his hat from a very warm brow.
“Hail, chief of the commissary department!” cried Geoffrey, with mock salute. “Have you despatched the team?”