"Yes," answered Tilly, turning and looking down at the occupant of the
hammock; "I think 'Jack Hall' is the jolliest kind of a book. I've read
it twice."

Will jerked himself up into a sitting posture, as he ejaculated in
pleased astonishment,--

"Come, I say now!"

"Yes," went on Tilly; "I think it's one of the best books I ever
read,--that part about the boat-race I've read over three or four
times."

"Well, your head _is_ level," cried Will, sitting up still straighter
in the hammock, and regarding Tilly with a look of respect.

"Because I don't care anything for Boston's grand folks and do care for
'Jack Hall'?" laughed Tilly.

"Yes, that's about it," responded Will, with a little grin. "I'm so sick
and tired," he went on, "hearing about 'swells' and money. The best
fellow I know at school is quite poor; and one of the worst of the lot
is what you'd call a swell, and has no end of money."

"There are all kinds of swells, Master Willie. Why, you know perfectly
well that you belong to the swells yourself," retorted Dora.

"I don't!" growled Will.

"Well, I should just like to hear what your cousin Frances would say to