“That might give him water on the brain,” observed Gil, looking up from his book.
Poke observed him sorrowfully. “Your humor, Gil, is heavy, very heavy. Go on with your Latin, my poor fellow.”
“How the dickens can I, when you two chaps are talking?” asked Gil mildly, pushing his book away.
“I thought you’d be through,” said Jeffrey. “I’ll come in again later.”
“Sit still, Jeff. I am through. I was just taking a fall out of Monday’s stuff. Where’s Jim?”
“Over there; studying math.” Jeffrey indicated his room with a jerk of his head. “I’ve been thinking—”
“You said that before,” interrupted Poke sweetly.
“Shut up, Poke! Let him think if he wants to. Just because you never do it—”
“Let him tell it, Gil, can’t you? Always interrupting and annoying folks with your beastly chatter. Go ahead, Jeff; don’t mind him; you’ve been thinking; now what’s the rest? Bet you I know the answer!”
Jeff aimed a blow at Poke’s shins with the end of a crutch and Poke kicked his feet up just in time. “He’s getting crutchity, Gil,” he said sadly.