“Funny, another man from California once told me the same thing,” Mr. Stone smiled. “I’ll have to go down there some day and try it.”
“You’d better. No place like it.”
“What are you doing in Oregon?” Uncle Billy suggested.
“Oh, just taking a look around. Pretty nice little lake here, but you ought to see the Yosemite.”
“I’ve been to Coney Island,” Bennie grinned, falling into the game.
“I’ve seen a picture of Venice by moonlight,” said Dumplin’.
“I’ve been up Bunker Hill Monument. It is 224 feet high,” said Spider.
The Californian began to get wise to the fact that he was being guyed, and moved off. They watched him. He went past their cars and glanced at the ground under the hoods to see if they had really been drained. Then he went over and drained his own.
Mr. Stone laughed. “Push any button on a Californian, and you’ll start a record about the finest climate in the world.”
“It’s the climate,” said Bennie, solemnly. “Let’s see, where did I see that? Oh, yes, on a big banner across the road in a city down in California.”