I'd get hydrophobia, and die. Your father would have had to pay damages, too."
"I'm glad no such thing as that happened, Uncle Ezra."
"Hum! Where's your father?"
"Down to the bank. I can telephone, and let him know that you are here."
"It isn't necessary. No need of wearing out the wires that way. I can wait. I hear he has some foolish notion of sending you to a military school."
"I am going to a military academy, Uncle Ezra, in accordance with my mother's wishes."
"Stuff and nonsense! A wicked waste of money! The ordinary schools were good enough for me, and they ought to be good enough for you. It's a sinful waste of money. Mortimer Hamilton ought to be ashamed of himself. The money ought to go to the heathen. It's foolish."
"My father doesn't think so," replied Dick as quietly as he could, though he was fast becoming angry at the dictatorial tone of his crabbed uncle.
"Hum! Much he knows about it! The idea of putting such ideas into boys' heads as fighting and killing. Hu!"
"But it might be useful in case of war."
"Stuff and nonsense! It's positively wicked, I tell you. I've come to remonstrate with Mortimer about it. If he has to go to Europe, which is another waste of money, he could leave you with me. I'd bring you up in the way you should
