The Spirit of the School
by Ralph Henry Barbour
2021-01-07 11:31:39
"It''s all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle.""Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!""Well, gargoyle," continued Bert Middleton. "What''s the difference? Of course, it''s easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn''t your funera...
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"It''s all well enough for you to sit there and grin like a gargle.""Gargoyle is what you mean, my boy!""Well, gargoyle," continued Bert Middleton. "What''s the difference? Of course, it''s easy enough for you to laugh about it; it isn''t your funeral; but I guess if you''d had all your plans made up only to have them knocked higher than a kite at the last minute--""I know," said Harry Folsom soothingly. "It''s rotten mean luck. I''d have told the doctor that I wouldn''t do it.""But it wasn''t his fault, you see. It''s dad that''s to blame for the whole business. You see, it was this way. The Danas used to live up in Feltonville when I was a kid, and dad and Mr. Dana were second cousins or something, and were sort of partners in a sawmill and one or two things like that. Hansel Dana was about my age, maybe a year younger, and we used to play together sometimes. But his mother used to take him away on visits in the summer, and so we didn''t get very chummy. The fact is I never cared much for him. He was sort of namby-pamby, and used to read kid''s books most all the time.
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