Do you look like him?"
"I hardly know. Some people think I do. My mother says so," was
Van's indifferent response. "But say, tell me more about sugar.
You'd think with my father right in the business I'd know something
about it; but I don't. Do they get sugar from anything beside beets,
and sugar-cane, and maple sap?"
"Oh, my, yes. There's sugar in ever so many other things: in grapes,
and milk, and the date palm, and in maize; but it is from the beet
and cane that the most sugar can be extracted."
Van nodded.
"You're quite a lecturer, Bobbie," he said. "Wait until I get back
home and astonish my father with all this knowledge. I'll make his
eyes stick out."
Van broke into hearty laughter at the thought. Then, as he started
to walk on he gave a shout of dismay.
"Hold onto me, Bob," he cried. "I can't move. While I've been
standing here listening to your words of wisdom I've been sinking
deeper and deeper into your old yellow mud until now I can't stir.
I can't--upon my word. My feet are in perfectly solid. You can laugh
if you want to, but you've just got to pull me out, that's all.
Help! Help! To the rescue. I shall disappear in another minute.
David will never see his rubber boots again."
"Of course you can get your feet out," was Bob's scornful retort.
"Cross my heart I can't. Honest, Bobbie," protested Van. "I've got
into a quicksand or a quagmire or something. Look at me. I'm up to
my knees now, and if you don't hurry you'll see nothing of me but my
collar.
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