You will become an intellectual athlete, like the great King Ptush of Egypt; a winner in the spiritual Marathon--" "What are you trying to do with this kid, anyhow ?" demanded my father at this point.

"Turn him into a strap-hanger, or is this just a little lynching party ?" "Hush, Enoch," protested Aunt Jerusha.

"Do not project an unsympathetic thought wave across our wires.

I am just getting little Methy into a receptive mood.

He is having his supper." "Supper ?" roared my father.