Boys -- Juvenile fiction; School children -- Juvenile fiction
"You hear! They are calling you 'tell-tale.' That will be your name now.
Oh, Holt! you should not have told tales. However, I will stand by you,"
Hugh continued, seeing the terror that Holt was in.
"I meant no harm," said Holt, trembling. "Was not it a shame that they
would not let us learn our lessons?"
"Yes, it was--but----"
At this moment Mr. Tooke entered the room. As he passed the forms, the
boys were all bent over their books, as if they could think of nothing
else. Mr. Tooke walked up the room to his desk, and Mr. Carnaby walked
down the room to _his_ desk; and then Mr. Carnaby said, quite aloud,
"Mr. Tooke, sir."
"Well."
Here Holt sprang from his desk, and ran to the usher and besought him
not to say a word about what Warner's class had been doing. He even hung
on Mr. Carnaby's arm in entreaty; but Mr. Carnaby shook him off, and
commanded him back to his seat. Then the whole school heard Mr. Tooke
told about the wry faces and the mask, and the trouble of the little
boys. Mr. Tooke was not often angry; but when he was, his face grew
white, and his lips trembled. His face was white now. He stood up, and
called before him the little boy who had informed. Hugh chose to go with
Holt, though Holt had not gone up with him about the letter, the other
day; and Holt felt how kind this was. Mr. Tooke desired to know who the
offenders were; and as they were named, he called to them to stand up in
their places. Then came the sentence. Mr. Tooke would never forgive
advantage being taken of his absence. If there were boys who could not
be trusted while his back was turned, they must be made to remember him
when he was out of sight, by punishment. Page must remain in school
after hours, to learn twenty lines of Virgil; Davison twenty; Tooke
forty----
Here everybody looked round to see how Tooke bore his father being so
angry with him.
"Please, sir," cried one boy, "I saw little Proctor throw a sponge at
Tooke. He did it twice."
"Never mind!" answered Tooke. "I threw it at him first. It is my
sponge."
"And Warner," continued the master, as if he had not heard the
interruption, "considering that Warner has got off too easily for many
pranks of late,--Warner seventy."
Seventy! The idea of having anybody condemned, through him, to learn
seventy lines of Latin by heart, made Holt so miserable, that the word
seventy seemed really to prick his very ears. Though Mr. Tooke's face
was still white, Holt ventured up to him--
"Pray, sir----"
"Not a word of intercession for those boys?" said the master. "I will
not hear a word in their favour."
"Then, sir----"
"Well."
"I only want to say, then, that Proctor told no tales, sir. I did not
mean any harm, sir, but I told, because----"
"Never mind that," cried Hugh, afraid that he would now be telling of
Harvey, Prince, and Gillingham, who had persuaded him to go up.
"I have nothing to do with that. That is your affair," said the master,
sending the boys back to their seats.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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