“I really don’t know, Jeff. Never bought a canoe in my life. I would think so, though. How about it, Poke?”
“Oh, am I to be allowed to speak?” asked Poke in a muffled voice from behind his breastworks. “Had to come to old Poke when you wanted to know something, didn’t you?”
“Oh, shut up, you idiot!” laughed Gil. “How much do canoes cost?”
Poke emerged in a shower of cushions. “Canoes?” he asked. “Well now, what kind of canoes? There are canvas canoes, wooden canoes, paper canoes, birch-bark canoes, steel canoes, dug-outs—”
“Dug-outs, of course,” replied Gil sarcastically. “Those are what Sandford makes, I suppose?”
“Irony doesn’t become you,” responded Poke critically. “Irony, Gil, should be indulged in only by those having an iron constitution. Returning to the subject of canoes and the cost thereof—”
“Thirty dollars will probably buy you a first-class one, Jeff,” Gil interrupted. “When are you going to—”
“Thirty dollars will buy a very fair one only,” Poke corrected. “Allow me, if you please, to speak on this subject. I suppose there is no one in Crofton who has more knowledge of canoes than I, Jeff. Canoes are—are an open book to me. I can tell you where to buy them, how to buy them, when to buy them—and when not to! Also, I have full knowledge of what to feed them and how to bring them up. I suppose I’ve brought up more canoes—”
“Honestly, Poke, you’re silly,” said Gil disgustedly. “We’re talking seriously, so shut up or get out, will you?”
“I can be just as serious as you can, you old Mr. Grouch!” Poke returned to his chair at the table, wearing an expression of intense dignity. “Sandford’s eighteen-foot canoe, Jeff, costs forty-two dollars, but you can get a dandy sixteen-footer for thirty-five. It isn’t finished quite as nicely, I believe. Sometimes you can pick up a good second-hand one up there. Perky Wright has one he only paid about fifteen for. I don’t think it came from Sandford, though. What’s that other fellow’s name up there, Gil?”