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The day book. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, November 17, 1911, Image 20

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1911-11-17/ed-1/seq-20/

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m
t$ Edmund VaneeGa)
"MUST."
Paul Pomfret was a clever boy,
but he had never learned the
meaning of the word 'must.'
"Paul, you must go to bed,
now," said his father, one even
ing. .
"Oh, why must It" demanded
Paul.
"Simple enough," said his fath
er. "If you don't go to bed, you
wont get enough sleep, so vou'll
no use for you, you might as well
be out of it and if you're out of
it, there's no place else to go. So
you must go to bed, don't you
see?"
"Oh, I wish -there wasn't such
a word as 'must' in, the world,"
stormed Paul.
"Did you ever stop to think
that the only things we MUST
do are the things we OUGHT to
do?" asked his father.
get up late in the morning. If
you get up late, you'll hurry your
breakfast or rush to school with
none at all. If voir don't eat
right, you wont be able to study
right. If you can't study, you
may fail this termf If you fail,
you may lose interest in school
and-your teachers lose, interest ia
you. If that happens, you might
as well be out of school. Then
you might grow up a dunce or an
ignoramus and the 'world has no
use for either. If the world has
"Aw-w-w-wl" retorted Paul,
as if that ended the argument.
He went to bed, by degrees,
still rebeling and he went to sleep
in a jiffy and then something
strange happened. He heard
some one, or something, com
plaining, as he had complained,
and he made out that it was the
.Mattress. "Oh, feathers ! 1 wish
that lunk of a Boy wouldn't sfeep
on me. He's so heavy and his
bones stick into me and his toes
scratch me, but I suppose I

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