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Plescott, that he was entirely in error in asserting that you are not fit to eat with Hottentot savages. I assured him that you were!" There was a wild whoop of glee from the spectators, especially from the other plebes, and Dick, though he laughed heartily, reddened when he found himself focused by so many scores of eyes. Then the singer dropped off into another song, and the nonsense went on.
Nowhere was the laughter louder than in the ranks of the standing plebes themselves, at the rear of the audience. This woeful-looking performer, after the orchestra had played a few preliminary strains, launched into a parody of "Nobody Loves Me." The song was full of hits on the b.j. "beast." "Mr. Plescott!" called the interlocutor, after the song and two encore verses had been sung.
Plescott, your defamer said you were not fit to eat with Hottentot savages! I had to call the fellow down severely. Think of it, Mr. Plescott you not fit to eat with Hottentot savages." "Dat was a mighty mean thing to say, sah. Mought ah ask what yo' said to de gemmun?" "I told your defamer, Mr.
Plescott," continued the interlocutor, "I heard something said about you this morning that I didn't in the least like." "Ye-e-es, sah?" inquired the minstrel plebe falteringly. "I consider it, Mr. Plescott, a most insulting thing that I heard said about you." "Ye-e-es, sah?" faltered the performer, his knees shaking and his eyes rolling in apprehension. "Mr.
"Yes, sah," falteringly replied the minstrel plebe, turning awkwardly and saluting with the wrong hand. Though the name called was "Plescott," half of the plebe class turned to grin at Cadet Richard Prescott. Dick stood it well, waiting to see what the performer would next say. "Mr.
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