"That's what you call a story with a moral, Annie. It is meant to teach you a lesson. The best stories have no morals ... neither have the people who listen to them."
"We had to write the story," said Ellen, "and syne we had to tell why the boy got the job. Aw said it was becos he was a guid boy and went to the Sunday Schule."
"Aw said it was becos he was a pernikity sort o' laddie that liked things to be tidy," said Gladys.
Annie laughed.
"Aw said the man was maybe a fat man that cudna bend doon to pick it up. What did you say, Jan?"
"Aw dinna mind," said Janet ruefully, "but when the Mester cried me oot for speakin', Aw picked up a geography book on the floor, just to mak the Mester think that Aw had learned a lesson frae his story, but he gae me a slap on the lug for wastin' time comin' oot."
"Jim Jackson got three scuds wi' the strap for his story," said Annie.
"Ah!" I cried, "what did he write?"
"He said that the laddie maybe hadna a hankie, and his nose was needin' dichted and he didna like to let the man see him dichtin' it wi' the sleeve o' his jaicket, so he bent doon to pick up the Bible and dicht his nose on the sly at the same time."
"Yes," I said sadly, "that's Jim Jacksonese, pure and simple. Poor lad!"