“But the great school ain't goin' t' be ruled much longer by its primer class,” said the poet. “An' the Principal an' trustees will put an end to fightin' between classes. They find it interferes with the work o' the school, whose great aim is given in three
words: Peace, Happiness, Brotherhood.”
“Wal, I'm goin' t' play truant an' go fishin',” said Uncle Eb.
“School's dismissed fer the day,” said Feary, as he rose to leave us. “Eb Holden, we're both likely to be promoted before long. We're like two boys who've been away to school. When we get home they're goin' to be glad to see us. Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!”
So the old man left us, and we sat watching him as he crossed the brook and slowly mounted the green uplands.
“Purty good fishin' when Jed Feary's around,” said Uncle Eb, as we slowly made our way to the edge of the woods. “Growin' old, ain't he?—say, if his body fitted his soul what do ye s'pose we'd think o' him? I dunno but we'd