“Why, you’re home early,” said Harry, in surprise. “I thought you were going to spend the whole day in the Art Gallery.”
“So I was,” said Philip, rising to make room for the later arrival. “I started for there. Where have you been?”
“Oh, to the Government Building, the man-of-war, the convent, the caravels—and a lot more,” said Harry, as he flung himself upon the bed, first having made himself comfortable by removing his jacket and shoes.
“Did you like it?”
“Like it? Of course I liked it, old slowcoach! But it’s too much like being invited to two Thanksgiving dinners—enough is better than two feasts.”
“What did you see?” asked Philip.
“See here, Phil,” said Harry, smiling mischievously; “do you think I am unable to take a view through a millstone with a hole in it? You needn’t think you can put me off by asking questions. What I want to know is why you didn’t get to the Art Building. It’s not small, you know; you could hardly have passed it without noticing it. Come, out with it, young fellow.”
“To tell the truth,” said Phil reluctantly, but laughing good-naturedly, “I started out all right, for I looked up the way in the guide-book. I found that the cheapest and quickest plan was to take the railway on the grounds—the Intra—something; yes, the Intramural, which means ‘within the wall.’”
A “LOOP” OF THE INTRAMURAL RAILWAY.