“_Miserable_ coward,” said Mr. Rose, throwing into the word such ringing scorn that no one who heard it ever forgot it. He indignantly shook the boy off, and caned him till he rolled on the floor, losing every particle of self-control, and calling out, “The devil--the devil--the devil!” (“invoking his patron saint,” as Wildney maliciously observed). “There! cease to blaspheme, and get up,” said the master, blowing out a cloud of fiery indignation. “There, sir. Retribution comes at last, leaden-footed but iron-handed. A long catalogue of sins is visited on you to-day, and not only on your shrinking body, but on your conscience too, if you have one left. Let those red marks betoken that your reign is ended. Liar and tempter, you have led boys into the sins which you then meanly deny! And now, you boys, _there_ in that coward, who cannot even endure his richly-merited punishment, see the boy whom you have suffered to be your _leader_ for well-nigh six months!” “Now, sir”--again he turned upon Brigson--“that flogging shall be repeated with interest on your next offence. At present you will take each boy on your back while I cane him. It is fit that they should see where _you_ lead them to.” Trembling violently, and cowed beyond description, he did as he was bid. No other boy cried, or even winced; a few sharp cuts was all which Mr. Rose gave them, and even they grew fewer each time, for he was tired, and displeased to be an executioner. “And now,” he said, “since that disgusting but necessary scene is over, _never_ let me have to repeat it again.” But his authority was established like a rock from that night forward. No one ever ventured to dispute it again, or forgot that evening. Mr. Rose’s noble moral influence gained tenfold strength from the respect and wholesome fear that he then inspired. But, as he had said, Brigson’s reign was over. Looks of the most unmitigated disgust and contempt were darted at him, as he sat alone and shunned at the end of the table; and the boys seemed now to loathe and nauseate the golden calf they had been worshipping. He had not done blubbering even yet, when the prayer-bell rang. No sooner had Mr. Rose left the room than Wildney, his dark eyes sparkling with rage, leaped on the table, and shouted-- “Three groans, hoots, and hisses, for a liar and a coward,” a sign of execration which he was the first to lead off, and which the boys echoed like a storm. Astonished at the tumult, Mr. Rose re-appeared at the door. “Oh, we’re not hissing you, sir,” said Wildney excitedly; “we’re all hissing at lying and cowardice.” Mr. Rose thought the revulsion of feeling might do good, and he was striding out again, without a word, when-- “Three times three for Mr. Rose,” sang out Wildney.