Joe Ingersoll laughed softly.
"You don't seem to like the efforts of the--um--sweet-voiced
choristers," he said in his slow way.
"I don't like the sob-stuff," replied Perry resentfully. "What's the use
of rubbing it in? Why not let a fellow be cheerful after he has got
through by the skin of his teeth and kicked his books under the bed?
Gosh, some folks never want anyone to be happy!" He raised himself by
painful effort and peered out and down into the gloom. "Sophs, I'll
bet," he murmured, falling back again on the cushions. "No one else
would sit out here on the grass and sing school songs two days before
the end. I hope that idiot singing second bass will get a brown-tail
caterpillar down his neck!"
"The end!" observed Steve Chapman. "You say that as if we were all going
to die the day after tomorrow, Perry! Cheer up! Vacation's coming!"
"Vacation be blowed!" responded Perry. "What's that amount to, anyway?
Nothing ever happens to me in vacation. It's all well enough for you
fellows to laugh. You're going up to college together in the Fall. I'm
coming back to this rotten hole all alone!"
"Not quite alone, Sweet Youth," corrected Joe. "There will be some four
hundred other fellows here."
"Oh, well, you know what I mean," said Perry impatiently.
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