"Of course there is scarcely a possibility of his doing so," Betty said
finally with hopeless mien. "Mr. Canary--Uncle Dick's friend is named
Jonathan Canary, isn't that a funny name?" she interrupted herself to ask.
"He's a bird," declared Teddy Tucker solemnly.
"Nothing romantic sounding about that name," his brother said, with a look
at Libbie. "'Jonathan Canary'--no poetry in that."
"He, he!" chuckled Ted wickedly. "Talking about poetry----"
"But we weren't!" said Bobby Littell. "We were talking about going to
Mountain Camp in the Adirondacks. Think of it--in the dead of winter!"
"Talking about poetry," steadily pursued Teddy Tucker. "You know Timothy
Derby is always gushing."
"A 'gusher,'" interposed Betty primly, "is an oil well that comes in with
a bang."
"Don't you mean it comes out with a bang?" teased Louise.
"In or out, Betty and I have seen 'em gush all right," cried Bob, as they
cantered on together along a well-defined bridle-path.
"Say! I'm telling you something," exploded Teddy Tucker, who did not
purpose to have his tale lost sight of.
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