“Mr. Bob, of Portland, Maine,
Wouldn’t he give you a pain?”
More howls, dismal and prolonged, from the opposition. Then Tom’s voice, eager, triumphant:
“Du-du-du-Dan, Dan, su-silly old Dan!
Eats blue paint out of a can!”
This reference to an episode of the preceding summer when Dan, playing sign painter, had got himself very thoroughly mixed up with a half gallon of bright blue paint, brought laughter from all.
“Let’s have a rhyme on Nelson,” suggested Bob.
“All right; you do it,” said Dan.
“Oh, I’m no poet. And I haven’t got my rhyming dictionary with me.”
“Oh, never mind the rhymes,” said Nelson. “Don’t let those bother you; Dan doesn’t.”
“My rhymes are always faultless,” answered the other.
“Oh, yes; like ‘son’ and ‘gum’!”