“I’ll pull his nose when I see him,” said Parson, who, however, did not appear very deeply affronted so far.
The reading continued.
“‘Parson ran on and left me alone. Now that I am alone let me muse on my past life and hope it will be better only the schoolhouse boat was out. I think they or our boat will win. Nice seeing them row Gilks catches a crab’” (this was previous to Gilks’s ejection from the boat). “‘Entered chapel at 1 to 8. King was there eating toffee.’”
“Hullo, King, you’re all right. When this diary’s published some day, you’ll figure all serene,” said Telson, laughing.
“Wait a bit,” said King, “your turn’s coming.”
“‘At breakfast sit opposite Telson. He eats vulgar. Thou shouldest not talk with thy mouth full, Telson, I prithee.’”
The readers fairly broke down at this point. Telson had to admit that his turn had come, and relieved himself by announcing that he would prithee his candid chronicler some day in a way which would astonish him.
“‘Meditations at breakfast,’ continued the diary. ‘The world is very big. I am small in the world. I will ambition twenty lines for gross conduct with Harrison—throwing bread I repent entirely. Parson wanted me to do his “Caesar” for him.’”
“Oh, what a whacker!” exclaimed Parson.
“‘I declined, owing to not knowing—’”