TALKS WITH A KID BROTHER
telling them where to go or some other proper or improper retort, slammed the window and thought that was the end of a little episode like hundreds of campus episodes which happen nightly. But the next night the same gang happened to be coming home from the grill-room and the same thing happened again.
This time some other fellows across the quadrangle, hearing the racket, poked their heads out of their open windows and also yelled, "Hello, Chesty Chisholm." Then
some others way down on the back campus, being tired of poling, and desirous of a diversion, echoed the refrain from the distance. Chesty grinned, kept on undressing and went to sleep. That was the last good sleep he had for two weeks. As soon as he appeared the next day the gang reminiscently saluted him from a distance in the same manner. For no reason in the world except that they felt like it they continued to do so. By nightfall all of his classmates were shouting, "Hello-o, Chesty Chisholm," whether they spied him a quarter
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