“He turned out a good many scholars, didn’t he?”
“My oath! I’m thinkin’ about going down to the trainin’ school.”’
“You ought to—I would if I were you.”
“My oath!”
“Those were good old times,” I hazarded, “you remember the old bark school?”
He looked away across the sidling, and was evidently getting uneasy. He shifted about, and said:
“Well, I must be goin’.”
“I suppose you’re pretty busy now?”
“My oath! So long.”
“Well, good-bye. We must have a yarn some day.”