The cause of this sudden halt was to be seen at the foot of a maple tree in the person of a fat lump of good natured boy flesh supine upon the ground.
"Hello, Joe; coming to school ?" "Ugh," grunted Joe, from the repose of limitless calm.
"Come on, then, quick, march." Once more the band struck up its hymn.
"Hol' on, Larry, it's plenty tam again," said Joe.

The band came to a stop.

"I don' lak dat school me," he continued, still immersed in calm.
Joe's struggles with an English education were indeed tragically pathetic.

His attempts with aspirates were a continual humiliation to himself and a joy to the whole school.

No wonder he "no lak dat school." Besides, Joe was a creature of the open fields.