"You're dead right, too," agreed Steve. "That kind of thing is all right for Joe, of course. Joe's a natural-born 'fusser.' He's never happier than when he's dolled up in a sport-shirt and a lavender scarf and toasting marshmallows. But—"
"Is that so?" inquired Joe with deep sarcasm. "If I was half the 'fusser' you are—"
"What I want," interrupted Perry, warming to his theme, "is adventure! I'd like to hunt big game, or discover the North Pole—"
"You're a year or two late," murmured Joe.
"—or dig for hidden treasure!"
"You should—um—change your course of reading," advised Joe. "Too much Roosevelt and Peary and Stevenson is your trouble. Read the classics for awhile—or the Patty Books."
"That's all right, but you chaps are just the same, only you won't own up to it."
"One of us will," said Steve; "and does."
"Make it two," yawned Joe. "Beneath this—um—this polished exterior there beats a heart—I mean there flows the red blood of—"
"Look here, fellows, why not?" asked Steve.