"To hell with your money!" Stan said, and slammed the door.
He was always a dreadful boy, my dear! So violent and headstrong! Always picking on my poor Johnny at school; Johnny came home once with the most dreadful bruise over his eye—Stanley's work.
So young Stan flung away to the West three years ago. The Selden girl still teaches the Brookfield District; Stan Mitchell writes to her, the mail carrier says. No-o; not so bad-looking, exactly—in that common sort of way!
CHAPTER IX
"Far be it from me to—to—"
"Cavil or carp?"
"Exactly. Thank you. Beautiful line! Quite Kipling. Far from me to cavil or carp, Tum-tee-tum-tee-didy, Or shift the shuttle from web or warp. And all for my dark-eyed lydy! Far be it from me, as above. Nevertheless—"
"Why, then, the exertion?"
"Duty. Friendship. Francis Charles Boland, you're lazy."
"Ferdie," said Francis Charles, "you are right. I am."