Well, I gave it up. I had made every effort,—there was no pleasing the creature. My conscience was clear at all events,—and that was the principal thing.
CHAPTER XX
WHILE THE EVIL DAYS COME NOT
September was horribly near. And worse,—there was coming that 5th day of September when a certain bell should ring again, and we trudge up Elm Street, fidgeting uneasily about in our new "fall" clothes.
The spectre of that man, that arithmetic-man, whose name during the days of vacation it were almost profanation to speak, arose before us with a hateful leer.
The nights and mornings had grown cooler, and where daisies and buttercups had blossomed at the roadside, the golden-rod and frost-flowers had it all their own way.