Well, I'm oil.
Don't forget the upper middle class meeting to-night.

They're going to vote on the Class Crew question, and we want all the votes we can get to down the fellows that don't want to pay the assessment.

Good-night." And Outfield West took himself off toward his room, his broad shoulders well back, and his clear, merry voice singing the school song as he strode along.

Joel turned into the library, feeling well satisfied with the result of his meddling, to pore over a reference book until supper time.
The following morning Joel awoke to find a cold rain falling from a dull sky.

The elms in the yard were dripping from every leaf and branch, and the walks held little gray pools that made the trip to breakfast a series of splashes.