I never go there, but then I am in the minority." "What did you used to do when you was to hum ?" inquired Joshua, who was by nature curious and had no scruples about gratifying his curiosity.
"I used to keep school winters.

In the spring and summer I assisted my father on his farm down in Maine." "You don't say you're from Maine?
Why, I'm from Maine myself," remarked Joshua.
"Indeed! Whereabouts in Maine did you live ?" "Pumpkin Hollow." "I kept school in Pumpkin Hollow one winter." "You don't say so?
What is your name ?" inquired Joshua earnestly.
"John Kellogg." "I thought so!" exclaimed Mr.Bickford, excited.
"Why, I used to go to school to you, Mr.Kellogg." "It is nine years ago, and you must have changed so much that I cannot call you to mind." "Don't you remember a tall, slab-sided youngster of thirteen, that used to stick pins into your chair for you to set on ?" Kellogg smiled.
"Surely you are not Joshua Bickford ?" he said.
"Yes, I am.

I am that same identical chap." "I am glad to see you, Mr.Bickford," said his old school-teacher, grasping Joshua's hand cordially.
"It seems kinder queer for you to call me Mr.Bickford." "I wasn't so ceremonious in the old times," said Kellogg.
"No, I guess not.

You'd say, 'Come here, Joshua,' and you'd jerk me out of my seat by the collar.

'Did you stick that pin in my chair ?' That's the way you used to talk.