But at this point Riley picked up his slate and book, and turned away. The master snapped his fingers, but Riley affected not to hear him. "That young man will put down his slate." The master spoke in a low tone, as one who expected to be obeyed, and the slate was reluctantly put upon the desk. "When I am talking to you, I want you to hear," he went on, very quietly. "I am paid to teach you. One of the things I have to teach you is good manners. You," pointing to Riley, "are old enough to know better than to take your slate when your teacher is speaking, but perhaps you have never been taught what are good manners. I'll excuse you this time. Now, you all see those switches hanging here behind me. I did not put them there. I do not say that I shall not use them. Some boys have to be whipped, I suppose,--like mules,--and when I have tried, I may find that I cannot get on without the switches, but I hope not to have to use them." Here Riley, encouraged by the master's mildness and irritated by the rebuke he had received, began to make figures on his slate. "Bring me that slate," said the teacher. Riley was happy that he had succeeded in starting a row. He took his slate and his arithmetic, and shuffled up to the master in a half-indolent, half-insolent way. "Why do you take up your work when I tell you not to?" asked the new teacher. "Because I didn't want to waste all my morning. I wanted to do my sums." "You are a remarkably industrious youth, I take it." The young master looked Riley over, as he said this, from head to foot. The whole school smiled, for there was no lazier boy than this same Riley. "I suppose," the teacher continued, "that you are the best scholar in school--the bright and shining light of Greenbank." Here there was a general titter at Riley. "I cannot have you sit away down at the other end of the school-room and hide your excellent example from the rest. Stand right up here by me and cipher, that all the school may see how industrious you are." Riley grew very red in the face and pretended to "cipher," holding his book in his hand. "Now," said the new teacher, "I have but just one rule for this school, and I will write it on the blackboard that all may see it." He took chalk and wrote: DO RIGHT. "That is all. Let us go to our lessons." For the first two hours that Riley stood on the floor he pretended to enjoy it. But when recess came and went and Mr. Williams did not send him to his seat, he began to shift from one foot to the other and from his heels to his toes, and to change his slate from the right hand to the left. His class was called, and after recitation he was sent back to his place. He stood it as best he could until the noon recess, but when, at the beginning of the afternoon session, Mr. Williams again called his "excellent scholar" and set him up, Riley broke down and said: "I think you might let me go now." "Are you tired?" asked the cruel Mr. Williams.