Foster wisely waited till the outburst had been ended and then said,
"Well, Will, you're up against it, whatever you say. What are you going
to do about it?"
"Do about it? I'm going to pass that exam. There isn't any other way
out. I've got to do it! but that doesn't make it any nicer for me, does
it?"
"Splinter's here and is likely to stay. And if you and I are going to
stay too, I suppose we'll have to come to his tune."
"I fancy--you should hear Splinter say that."
"Say what?"
"'Fancy,' only he calls it 'fawncy'. I 'fawncy' my father is dead right
when he says that I'll find a splinter everywhere and just as long as I
live; but I don't believe I'll ever find one as bad as this one is."
"He may be worse. Don't you remember that little bit of Eugene Field's
verse where he tells how when he was a boy he was sliding down hill with
some other little chaps in front of the deacon's house? And how their
yelling annoyed the deacon till at last he came out and sprinkled ashes
on the path? Well, Eugene said he always had found since that there was
some one standing ready to throw ashes on his path, it didn't seem to
make any difference where he was.
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