omebody said 'fear' or
'cat' or 'geography,' and you had to assume an attitude expressive of
the word. The girls liked that game."

"Oh, the girls always liked games where they could show off or get
personal attention," replied Old Hundred. "They liked hide-and-seek
because you came after them, or because you took one of 'em and went
off with her alone to hide behind the wood-shed. They liked kissing
games best, though--drop-the-handkerchief and post-office."

"Those weren't recess games," I amended. "Those were party games. You
played them when you had your best clothes on, which entirely changed
your mental attitude, anyhow. When a girl dropped the handkerchief
behind you, you had to chase her and kiss her if you could, and when
you got a letter in post-office you had to go into the next room and
be kissed. Everybody tittered at you when you came back."

"Well, soak and scrub were recess games, anyhow. I can hear that glad
yell, 'Scrub one!' rising from the first boy who burst out of the
school-house door. Then there were dare-base, and foot-ball, which we
used to play with an old bladder, or at best a round, black rubber
ball, not one of these modern leather lemons. We used to kick it, too.
I don't remember tackling and rushing, till we got older and went to
prep school--or you and I went to prep school."

"I'd hate to have been tackled on the old school playground," said I.
"It was hard as rocks."

"It _was_ rocks," said Old Hundred. "You could spin a top on it
anywhere."

"Could you spin a top now?" I asked.

"Sure!" said Old Hundred. "And pop at a snapper, too."

"It's wicked to play marbles for keeps," said I impressively. "Only
the bad boys do that."

"Poor mother!" said Old Hundred. "Remember the marble rakes we used to
make? We cut a series of little arches in a board, numbered 'em one,
two, three, and so on, and stood the board up across the concrete
sidewalk down by Lyceum Hall. The other kids rolled their marbles from
the curb. If a marble went through an arch, the owner of the rake had
to give the boy as many marbles as the number over the arch. If the
boy missed, the owner took his marble. It was very profitable for the
owner. And my mother found out I had a rake. That night it went into
the kitchen fire, while I was lectured on the awful consequences of
gambling."

"I know," said I. "It was almost as terrible as sending 'comic
valentines.' Remember the 'comics'? They were horribly colored
l