"No, he doesn't. Well, the serpent was Satan, and Sa—"
"How can Satan be a serpent and a snake?" asked Lester. "First you said it was a snake; then you said it was a serpent; now you say it was Satan!"
"You boys are bothering my story all the time. I'm going to stop."
"Go on, Brush," I urged; "don't mind those boys; what do they know? They're all way back in the Second Reader, and you are in the Fifth, and I am in the Third."
"All right, I'll go on; I don't care what they say. Well, the Devil spoke to Eve and said—"
"Your snake has turned into a Devil now," sneered Edwin. "Boys, why don't you let me go on with my story; Brush doesn't know how to tell a story."
"Yes, I do too. Boys, you don't know anything; you don't know that the Devil and Satan and the serpent and the snake are the same thing; they're all the same. If you would listen when the teacher talks to you in the school-room, and when the minister speaks to us in the chapel, you would learn something. All you got to do is to listen, but you don't. When you are forced to sit still, you go to sleep; and when you are awake you tickle those that are asleep with straws, or stick pins in them. How are you going to learn anything when you do like that? You must listen; that's what I'm doing. I want to know all about these things so I can be a preacher when I get big. I'm going to wear a long black coat, and a vest that buttons up to the throat, and I'm going to wear a white collar, and a pair of boots that squeaks and reaches to my knees, and—"
"Edwin, go on with your story, I want to hear that," called Warren.
"He's asleep," said I.
"Only last Sunday," resumed Brush, "the minister told us that the Devil went about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may de—de— What's the rest of that word, Frank?"