Can't you see them grinding over the Orations of William Jennings Bryan and wondering why the dickens anyone ever wanted to talk such a silly language?
That's when we get our revenge, Clint.

We won't be around to see it, but it'll be there." Clint had to smile at the picture Amy drew, but he didn't find as much consolation as Amy pretended to, and Xenophon didn't come any easier.

He was heartily glad when the study-hour came to an end and he could conscientiously close his books.
The termination of that hour was almost invariably announced by the dismal squawking of Penny Durkin's fiddle.

Sometimes it was to be heard in the afternoon, but not always, for Penny was a very busy youth.

He was something of a "shark" at lessons, was a leading light in the Debating Circle and conducted a second-hand business in all sorts of things from a broken tooth-mug to a brass bed.