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4: The Growth of a Mustache
vTENRY and I started to school about the time we came to Cleveland. We were sent to St. Joseph's Seminary just outside Cleveland at Nottingham, Ohio. Having been pampered and spoiled by our grandmother we hated it, because if we tried to put anything over on the nuns we got a whack on the hands with a ruler.
We didn't like the food, either, for we were used to good French cooking; but we had to eat everything they put on our plates. Henry didn't like turnips and I detested squash. This was unfortunate, for I'm sure we got one or the other twice a day. We would slip the nauseating stuff off our plates and hide it in our pockets. After we left the table we would hurry to the dormitory and empty our pockets under the bed of a boy who used to bully us. When the nuns found the pile of dried squash and turnips under his bed, they gave him a delightful whacking and set him to saying his beads for the rest of the day.
After a year or two at St. Joseph's we entered the Rockwell Public School in Cleveland and Father decided it was time for us to take music lessons. We studied the piano, but Henry didn't like it so Father bought liim a flute. We used to practice together, playing duets.
One day we were playing a duet with a complicated flute solo. Outside the window the neighborhood gang was yelling for us to come out and play ball, so I kept playing faster and faster and Henry got lost in the runs and cadenzas of his flute solo. Finally he shouted for me to stop, but I kept right on going to
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