“Same with me, Kid.”
“I hope you’ll never move away from Oakwood, Harry.”
“Not much danger of that; our house was built by my grandfather. Look here, Kid, I know what’s the matter with you—you’re just dead tired.”
“Your father might put up a new house somewhere else, like Mr. Danforth.”
“No sirree! We all think too much of the old shack; and anyway, if he did, there’d be a room for the Black Ranger, all right, no matter where it was. We’d think of a way, Kiddo.”
“I don’t know how it is, Harry, I seem to learn things from you without your teaching them to me—I just learn them.”
“Nonsense!”
“Don’t you think one fellow can learn better from another than from some one else? I mean, Harry, if you think a whole lot of a fel—a person, why, you’d learn more from him than—Now, I’ll never smoke a cigarette after what you said, Harry, and it wasn’t like a lesson at all.”
“Guess you’ll never learn much from me, old man—Hand me the saucepan, will you?”
“My father thinks I will—and anyway, I’m glad I’m in your patrol.”