Young Loomis and Miss Evans have made their escape, and his show of humanity has been most instructive.  The working-class mind can simulate wondrous compassion, and this was such a moment.  In this case, I am the one in at the writing desk, and Young Loomis stands before the lectern.  Indeed, I have learned well, and to save Miss Evans and prevent Young Loomis from a further lecture, I find myself with rifle in hand on safari.  The Lad’s in the bush, and although he’s a fearsome predator, I’ve not yet met one who lacked an understanding of a strong dressing-down by Mother or a musket ball to the head! Ready, aim… BC


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