"Oh, yes, you old fraud!" jeered spike, poking his chum in the ribs.
"We all know that you are almost worn out with mental application!"
"But, finally," continued Cooper, doubling up slightly at the friendly nudge but giving no further attention to the interruption, "finally, I concluded that if my health could stand the strain, I would like nothing better than this nice stiff little course in ground work."
"'Ground work,' eh? Look here, Cooper, it is too early in the day to attempt a pun."
"Pun? Not at all," Cooper retorted. "Don't you know my present
ambition? To-day—-whatever my aspiration may be to-morrow—-to-day
I mean to fit myself for architecture and landscape gardening.
And when in the misty future you see the name of Architect Cooper
Fennimore, Adviser in Extra-ordinary to the President——-"
Cooper darted into the Fox-Otter cabin as Spike dashed at him again, and continued:
"———then you will remember when you studied the ground work of his profession with him!"
Their conversation was resumed a little later, when, rubbed down, clothed, and neatly brushed, the two boys responded to the mess call.
"But say, Cooper," said Spike, "were you in earnest about liking the summer school scheme and wanting to be a landscape artist?"
"I surely was, were, and am," replied Cooper, as the boys slipped into their places. "I've been watching my uncle-in-law build a house and lay out his grounds, and if I couldn't hit on a better plan than his, I'd——-"
"Dig a hole, crawl in, and pull the hole after you?" prompted Spike as Cooper paused for a comparison.