Instead, they hastily consumed their breakfast, drawing from the good lady a lecture on the dreadful consequences of eating in a hurry, illustrated by an anecdote concerning a little boy named Hector, who met a lamentable and untimely death by choking himself on a piece of steak and passed away surrounded by weeping relatives.
The boys, however, were evidently not impressed by the fate of the unfortunate Hector, for they gulped down their meal, snatched up their books, and rushed off to school without waiting for Aunt Gertrude's account of the funeral. They were crossing the school yard when the bell rang and they reached the classroom just in time.
"I feel like a stewed owl," was Joe's comment.
"Never ate stewed owl," returned his brother promptly. "How does it taste?"
"I said I felt, I didn't say I ate," retorted Joe. "Gee, but your eyes do look bunged up."
"What about your own?"
"Oh, if only I had had just one more hour's sleep!"
"I could go two or three."
"Aunt Gertrude was onto us."
"Yes, but she didn't get anywhere with it."