“I’ll tell you something, if you won’t say anything about it to any one.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t tell the principal.”
“No.”
“Well, then, we’re drunk,” added Scott, with a tipsy grin.
“I am, my boy; I don’t know a bob-stay from a bowling hitch. And you are as drunk as I am, Laybold.”
“I know what I am about.”
“So do I know what you are about. You are making a fool of yourself. Hold on a minute,” added Scott, as he seated himself on a bench before a shop.
“Come along, Scott.”