All in a fury enters Drury.
Sets him grammar and Virgil due;
Poets shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have,
Poets shouldn’t have work to do.”
“That’s all; I don’t know the rest. But when we sing it at General Singing or on the steps of the Old School these spring nights, I always think of you, and wonder if you scribble verses at Kingsbridge as much as you used to at school.”
“Oh, yes, still,” laughed Reggie, “as much as ever—and to as little purpose as ever, I fancy. But look here, boy; I don’t like to suggest unpleasant things to you such as the fact that school won’t last forever, but I want to be sure of one thing—”
“Yes?”
“You will certainly be coming up to col. next year?”
“Oh, yes, if I pass my exams. But of course there’s not much doubt about that. I’m not in much danger of being flunked.”
“Money matters all right?”