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The Story of Sugar

The Story of Sugar

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Chapter 1 COLVERSHAM

Word Count: 2475    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

's the use of cramming any more? You'll get through the exam all right; you know you always do,"

t you see I can't be too sure on this stuff. Math isn't my strong point, and I si

you'll get by. You are always worrying your head off when there's no earthly need of it. Now look at me. If there is any worrying to be done I'm the one

dmiringly at his friend. "I believe you ju

far it will carry you?" chuckled Van. "The trouble with you, Bobbie, is your conscience; you

that if he'd let me come to Colversham to school I'd do my best, and I mean to. It costs a pile

s and gazed thoughtfully down at the

rotten of me not to work harder down here. I know my father is sore on it, and every time he writes I mean to take a brace and do better-honest I do, no kidding. But you know how it goes. Som

popular boy in the school! That's why you get pulled into every sort of thing that's going. It's all right, too, only if you expect to study any you've got to

n to roam round t

ay, did you manage to dig out that Caesar for to-morrow? Fire away and give me the product of

d not

el

translate your Latin for you every day, Van," he

" answered Van frankly. "But what would you have me

always say, Van,

hed with the Glee Club rehearsals I couldn't do a

took up his Caes

when you're drowning I'll throw a pla

till searching for the place in the much worn brown te

ot my brain-my intellectual machine

nately rumpled up Bob's tidy locks un

ack into the next class-that's what woul

as si

" He paused. "But there's no use jumping all over myself if I haven't," he resumed, shifting to a mo

t start

a rap at

ent relief. "Don't you see I can't? Somebody's always b

g open

it's eats. Your mother's a corker at sending you thin

rub to you; but Mater is right here in New York, and of course as she's near by she'd be no sort of a

rom the big box and began

d sweet chocolate. She's put in salted almonds, too; and look-here's a tin box of Hanna

nk a lot of you," said Van slo

ed in a little hard

bie," was the impatient retort.

ore open the letter that

r Easter. They're going up for my spring vacation and take in the sugaring off. What a lark! And listen to this. S

I s

you g

his chu

inking of going to Boston with Ted Talbot, but I'd a good sight rather go batting w

er's home, and after he died and we all moved to New York Father fixed it over and kept it so

pring," put in Van, sarcastically, poi

it isn't," answered Bob. "Just think! Only a week more of crammi

crumpled wrapping-paper into the fireplace. "You don't need to worry, Bob. But look at me. I'll be lucky if I squeak through a

you've got to. Now come on and get at this Lati

y we pitch into

e done your Caesar. Come on, Van, like a good kid, and

Bob opened

glad that you did. Stop fooling with that paper and bring your c

son down the page, translating and explaining

crimson wall-paper and threw into prominence the posters tacked upon it. It was a cozy room with its deep rattan chairs and pillow-strewn couch.

of moderate means but the sons of some of the richest families in the country. It aimed to be a democratic institution, and in so far as this was possible it was; the school, howe

ool. Before the five mile ride was finished and the automobile had turned into the avenue of Colversham the boys had agreed to room together. Bob came from New York City. He was younger than Van, slender, dark, and very much in earnest; he might even have passed for a grind had it not be

ommonly good game at almost anything. More than that, he could rattle off ragtime untiringly and his nimble fingers could catch up on the piano any tune he heard whistled. What wo

not like him. Intellectually they were forced to own that he was demoralizing. He was, moreover, a disturber of the social order. But his pranks were, after a

after day Bob had patiently tutored his big chum in order that he might contrive to scrape through his lessons. It was Bob who did the work and Van who serenely accepted the fruits of it-accepted it but too frequently with scant thanks and even with grumbling. Bob, however, doggedly kept at his self-imposed task.

. "Don't forget about the hostages in the second line; you seem p

e elder boy yawning. "When I make my pile and

k. "Now for the plum-cake! You deserve about half the loaf, old man, but I shan't give it to you, for it would make you sick as a dog, and then I'd have you to take care of. Oh, I say, listen a minut

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