"Certainly, my dear Jane," faltered my mother, meekly. "But--but do you think it did Edward good?" "Do you think it did Edward harm, Clara?" asked Mr. Murdstone, gravely. "That's the point!" said his sister. To this my mother returned, "Certainly, my dear Jane," and said no more. I felt afraid that all this had something to do with myself, and sought Mr. Murdstone's eye as it lighted on mine. "Now, David," he said--and I saw that cast again, as he said it--"you must be far more careful to-day than usual." He gave the cane another poise and another switch; and having finished his preparation of it, laid it down beside him, with an expressive look, and took up his book. This was a good freshener to my memory, as a beginning. I felt the words of my lessons slipping off, not one by one, or line by line, but by the entire page. I tried to lay hold of them; but they seemed, if I may so express it, to have put skates on, and to skim away from me with a smoothness there was no checking. We began badly, and went on worse. I had come in with an idea of doing better than usual, thinking that I was very well prepared; but it turned out to be quite a mistake. Book after book was added to the heap of failures, Miss Murdstone being firmly watchful of us all the time. And when we came at last to a question about five thousand cheeses (canes he made it that day, I remember), my mother burst out crying. "Clara!" said Miss Murdstone, in her warning voice. "I am not quite well, my dear Jane, I think," said my mother. I saw him wink, solemnly, at his sister, as he rose and said, taking up the cane: "Why, Jane, we can hardly expect Clara to bear, with perfect firmness, the worry and torment that David has caused her to-day. Clara is greatly strengthened and improved; but we can hardly expect so much from her. David, you and I will go up-stairs, boy." As he took me out at the door, my mother ran towards us. Miss Murdstone said, "Clara! are you a perfect fool?" and interfered. I saw my mother stop her ears then, and I heard her crying. He walked me up to my room slowly and gravely--I am certain he had a delight in that formal show of doing justice--and when we got there, suddenly twisted my head under his arm. "Mr. Murdstone! Sir!" I cried to him. "Don't! Pray don't beat me! I have tried to learn, sir, but I can't learn while you and Miss Murdstone are by. I can't indeed!" "Can't you, indeed, David?" he said. "We'll try that." He had my head as in a vise, but I twined round him somehow, and stopped him for a moment, entreating him not to beat me. It was only for a moment that I stopped him, for he cut me heavily an instant afterwards, and in the same instant I caught the hand with which he held me in my mouth, between my teeth, and bit it through. It sets my teeth on edge to think of it.