Tom knew well enough that they were making fun of each other, but he did not exactly know how to participate in this sort of “guying.”
“’Sall right,” said he, rather weakly.
“What do you think of the Eifel Tower?”
“’Sall right.”
“Did he show you the Indian moccasins Julia made for him?”
This precipitated a wrestling match and Tom Slade witnessed the slow but sure triumph of science, as one after another the last speaker’s arms, legs, back, neck and finally his head, yielded to the invincible process of Roy’s patient efforts until the victim lay prone upon the grass.
“Is Camp Solitaire all right?” Roy demanded, laughing.
“Sure,” said the victim and sprang up, liberated.
Tom’s interest in these pleasantries was interrupted by the voice of Mr. Ellsworth.
“Come over here and try your hand, my boy.”