“Well, that’s a nice way to answer a polite inquiry,” said Chub. “You ought to teach him better manners, Harry.”
“I can’t teach him anything,” mourned Harry. “He knew all he knows now when I got him. Roy and I tried one day to—”
“Roy,” observed Methuselah slowly, experimentally. Then, as though to hide his embarrassment, “Well, I never did!” he shrieked. The four stared at each other in astonishment. Harry found her voice first.
“That’s the first new thing he’s ever said!” she whispered in awe.
“See if he will say it again,” Dick suggested. But in spite of all their coaxing Methuselah was obdurate. You would have thought he had never heard the word in his life, much less pronounced it.
“Well, it shows who’s the favorite, anyhow,” laughed Chub.
Harry blushed a little and answered quickly:
“That’s because Roy has been nice to him, and doesn’t make fun of him.”
“Maybe,” teased Chub, “but I notice he doesn’t break out with my name or Dick’s. And Dick just loves him; don’t you, Dick?”
“Of course I do,” answered Dick, walking over and rubbing Methuselah’s head through the slats. “We’re pretty good friends considering that we haven’t known each other very—Ouch! Great guns!”