The Philosophical Attitude
IT happened on the day before school opened; at that moment when Skippy returning from his first sentimental summer had no other thought than to rest up from the fatigue of the vacation and devote his activities to the serious business of life. There were the freshman (a discouraging lot) to be properly educated, taught to punctuate their sentences with a humble "sir," "if you please" and "thank you;" there was a certain score to be settled with Al at the Jigger Shop and the basis of a new credit to be argued, there was the prize room on the third floor overlooking the campus to be re-decorated with the loot of the summer, and one crucial question to be decided forthwith:
"Shall we start training now or gorge ourselves for just one more day?"
"The Jiggers are peach, soft and creamy," said Snorky with a pensive look. "But we should set an example you know, old top, and all that sort of thing."
"Keerect, we must."
"I can see the crowd up at Conover's putting away the pancakes," said Snorky insidiously.
"Be firm," said Skippy, returning to his trunk.
"It isn't only the Jiggers," said Snorky, who sometimes practised virtue but without the slightest enthusiasm, "it's—it's those éclairs—never tasted anything like them, big, fat, luscious, oozing with cream—"
"Shut up," said Skippy indignantly. "Where's your house spirit?"
"Can't a fellow be human?" said Snorky in an aggrieved tone.