One would suppose that they knew
nothing at all about school affairs, but they do. Even Jacob
Poot's bones, buried as they were in flesh, were sharp in the
matter of study hours.
Early on the morning of his return they ached through and
through, giving Jacob a twinge at every stroke of the school
bell, as if to say, "Stop that clapper! There's trouble in it."
After school, on the contrary, they were quiet and comfortable;
in fact, seemed to be taking a nap among their cushions.
The other boys' bones behaved in a similar manner, but that is
not so remarkable. Being nearer the daylight than Jacob's, they
might be expected to be more learned in the ways of the world.
Master Ludwig's, especially, were like beauty, only skin deep;
they were the most knowing bones you ever heard of. Just put
before him ever so quietly a grammar book with a long lessons
marked in it, and immediately the sly bone over his eyes would
set up such an aching! Request him to go to the garret for your
foot stove, instantly the bones would remind him that he was "too
tired." Ask him to go to the confectioner's, a mile away, and
PRESTO! not a bone would remember that it had ever been used
before.
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