Say, do you
think it is right when anything smells awfully, to always lay it to a
boy?"
"Well, in nine cases out of ten they would hit it right, but what do you
think is the trouble over to your house, honest?"
"S-h-h! Now don't breathe a word of it to a living soul, or I am a dead
boy. You see I was over to the dairy fair at the Exposition building
Saturday night, and when they were breaking up me and my chum helped to
carry boxes of cheese and firkins of butter, and a cheese man gave each of
us a piece of limberger cheese, wrapped up in tin foil. Sunday morning I
opened my piece, and it made me tired. O, it was the offulest smell I ever
heard of, except the smell when they found a tramp who hung himself in the
woods on the Whitefish Bay road, and had been dead three weeks. It was
just like an old back number funeral. Pa and Ma were just getting ready to
go to church, and I cut off a piece of cheese and put it in the inside
pocket of Pa's vest, and I put another in the lining of Ma's muff, and
they went to church. I went down to church too, and sat on a back seat
with my chum, looking just as pious as though I was taking up a
collection. The church was pretty warm, and by the time they got up to
sing the first hymn Pa's cheese began to smell a match against
Ma's cheese.
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