"First rate!" he cried, "I'll be there at nine."
"Better not," I said with a smile, "or you'll have to wait for ten minutes."
* * *
He arrived as I blew the "Fall in" on my bugle.
"You don't line them up and march them in?" he said.
"I used to, but I've given it up," I confessed. "To tell the truth I'm not enamoured of straight lines."
We entered my classroom. Simpson stood looking sternly at my chattering family while I marked the registers.
"I couldn't tolerate this row," he said.
"It isn't so noisy as your golf club on a Saturday night, is it?" He smiled slightly.