"
"So you could buy the fanciest kinds of food, I suppose?" jeered
Dave Darrin.
"Never mind, Darry; if I had a lot of money I'd buy you the biggest
and softest mattress I could find, so that you'd have nothing
to do but lie off by yourself, look up at the green leaves and
dream your summers away. That lying on your back and looking
up at the sky is what you call reverie, isn't it?"
"Quit your kidding!" ordered Dave.
"Is it reverie?" asked Harry Hazelton, "or just plain laziness
that ails Dave?"
"Laziness, of course," laughed Tom. "Dave, I guess Harry has
more sense in naming things than any of us. Yes; that's it!
And Dick thought it was merely poetic temperament."
"Temperament? What's that?" grinned Dan Dalzell. "Is that what
you get in June by adding up the column of figures in the thermometer?"
To signify his lack of interest in the talk, Darrin rolled over
on his side, turning his gaze away from the other boys. In another
minute Dave's eyes were closed, his lips open and his breath coming
regularly and audibly.
Such was the droning effect of the warm June breezes on this glorious
afternoon.
"Give Dave the chorus of 'He Was the Sleepiest Boy,'" whispered
Greg to the others. "Put a lot of steam into every line!"
At a sign from young Holmes the drowsy chorus rolled out, punctuated
by timely yawns.
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