"Dave is feeling so extremely well and happy-----"
"Now, you're shouting," Darrin assented. "But it's no use for
poor Reade to ponder over the glories of nature. All he can think
of is the region bounded by his belt."
"Glories of nature?" repeated Reade. "If that's what you're talking
about, why didn't you announce your subject earlier? Yes, sir;
nature is at her greenest best to-day. Just look off through
that line of trees, and see how the light breeze moves the tops
in that field of young corn, and-----"
"Corn?" flared Dave. "Something to eat, of course! Tom, you're
hopeless when it comes to the finer things of life. You ought
to have been born in a pen, close to a well-filled trough. Corn,
indeed!"
"This country would probably be bankrupt if there were no corn
crop, and you'd be digging hard for a living, instead of being
a lazy schoolboy," retorted Reade, with an indulgent smile. "Let
me see; how many hundred million dollars did Old Dut tell us the
annual corn crop brings in wealth to this country?"
All of the other boys, save Dave, glanced at Tom, but all shook
their heads. Statistics do not mix well in a Grammar School boy's
head.
"Oh, well, it was a lot of money, anyway," Tom pursued his subject.
"I wouldn't mind having all the money that the American corn
crop brings.
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