He had been nailing down the windows while we were barring the door.
“I did not see any one do it. When I looked the door was all barred up tight.”
Every one looked at him in amazement, but he replied by a smirk of conceit at his success.
“John Smith, did you help to keep me out?” thundered Miss Hester, her patience all gone.
“That will do; you can all take your seats.”
My name completed the roll, and she laid aside the book, and took up the rod. After some remarks on the enormity of our offence, and the surprise she felt that some of her best scholars should have countenanced it, and that it was her unpleasant duty to punish all concerned, she proceeded to call up the offenders in order.
“Edward Cheyleigh, come here, sir. I regret very much the necessity of punishing you, as it is the first time, and I have never before even reproved you; but the offence is very grievous, and as you know who did it, and won’t tell, you are accessory to the deed. Hold out your hand!”
I could stand it no longer, as Ned, with his face crimson from mortification, yet his head erect with conscious innocence, held out his hand for the undeserved blows, but springing from my seat, I cried:
“Miss Hester, Ned had nothing to do with it. We all begged him to join us, but he wouldn’t; and if you are going to whip him, let me take his share.”
“Stand back, sir,” she said sternly, “your time will come soon enough. Your hand, Edward.”
He extended each palm, and received the cutting blows without a quiver, then turned to his seat. As he sat down his fortitude gave way, and, burying his face in his hands, he burst into sobbing.
My time came last, but so much did I feel for Ned that I scarce heeded the stinging ferule. Miss Hester, after some further remarks, dismissed us for the evening. As we poured from the door, the occasion furnished food for more chattering than a cargo of magpies could have made.
“Wasn’t old Hess mad, though?” says one, whose hand was still red from the ruler.
“She couldn’t get much out of my hand with her old slapjack,” boasts another, rubbing his hands unconsciously on his pants, in striking contradiction of his assertion.
As Frank Paning came out I heard him say:
“Yes, you sneaked out like a dog,” I replied indignantly. Another chimed in: