"Seems as if you had earned it, son," said Mr. Armstrong.
"Grand little muscles, Mr. Armstrong," said the loquacious Codfish. "Nice, hard and knotty, warranted pure steel, made in Germany—just feel them, best set in Yale—delivery of goods guaranteed——"
The dinner gong cut the speaker's flow of language short, but at the table he kept the conversation moving at a lively pace.
"Well, boys," said Mr. Armstrong, edging into the torrent of talk, "do you like Yale as well now as ever?"
"Yale is great stuff," came the ready chorus.
"It would be better if we didn't have so many studies," added the Codfish.
"How's that?"
"Well, a fellow just gets settled down to doing something like baseball or football or track athletics when the recitations break in. And the profs. get so peeved when a fellow isn't up to form that they have an unkind habit of flunking him."
"And do you flunk, Mr. Gleason?" inquired Mrs. Armstrong.
"Does he flunk! O, my!" laughed Jimmy.