DURING arithmetic I filled an exercise book similar to the school's property one with one of the redskin stories which with my beloved verse were to bring me fame and immortality; thus—“With bursting lungs Harold strove to throw off the glistening swarthy arms that embraced him like the folds of a boa constrictor; but the redskin's strength was irresistible.” Lost in my Edward S. Ellisian forests, I did not see the Head's movements until he pounced, appropriated my masterpiece, took it to his desk, and read it while I waited for the familiar arm‐reach towards the too convenient cane, accompanied by his utterance of my name. But he read on, turned back the leaves, considered, and then called me. “No,” was all he said, “I don't think irresistible is the right word there.” I am unable to recall anything else except that there was no reference to arithmetic and no cane; but I loved him all his life after.
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