I’ve always been a firm believer in introducing change slowly. For instance, private rooms for the lads. Sure it’s nice to live in your own broom closet, rather than a human barn; but what sort of mischief will a lad get up to all alone without 50 brothers to snitch on him. Or take electricity. Though I was assured it didn’t explode like gas, it seemed to be an awfully magical source of power, and that could only mean one thing: Freemasons. Even football. ...
