“And what,” retorted McQueen, “was the name of the minister that told his session he would neither preach nor pray while the black frost lasted?”
“Hoots, doctor,” said Duthie, “don’t lose your temper because I’m in such form.”
“Don’t lose yours, Duthie, because I aye beat you.”
“You beat me, McQueen! Go home, sir, and don’t talk havers. Who beat you at——”
“Who made you sing small at——”
“Who won——”
“Who——”
“Who——”
“I’ll play you on Monday for whatever you like!” shrieked the doctor.