Poor Miss Freeman! all her ideas suffered a dreadful kind of revolution. She was in a sort of stupor; her brain was in a whirl. Could it be possible that a young Marquis could be thrashed at the pleasure of an elder boy merely because that boy sat on another form? To be called a young beggar besides, and to have his sufferings actually made game of by a mere baronet, it was all so dreadful, so astounding, and so utterly opposed to all her preconceived notions, that she was lost in amazement. 'You say, Miss Freeman,' said the Baronet, breaking in on her silent contemplations and reflections, 'that the fagging seems to be a matter of form. Well, so it is as to the seats of the boys, but not at all a matter of form as to the smart of the stripes; that depends on strength of arm.' 'Whatever it depends on,' said Miss F., 'it's very shocking to hear; but I'm persuaded you're hoaxing me. I'll never believe that a young nobleman of such high rank would or could be used in such a way.' 'Very sorry you don't believe,' said the Baronet, 'but all the same it's true; and, after all, his allowance as fag was nothing to what he used to get from old Thwackum regularly every day. Spoony, as the young hero was then called, used to get it regularly for his parsing, and whenever he saw the cane coming he used to begin to blubber, to the great amusement of old Snuffy, which was Thwackum's common appellation. The old fellow on these pleasant occasions used to become facetious, and, after his fashion, witty. Spoony in those days was marked pretty strongly by the small-pox, and whenever the tears filled the little pits caused by the pock marks, Snuffy used to say: "What, Mr. Puteus, the lord of the wells! Why, my little conjuring wand is as potent as the rod of Moses in raising the waters, and in setting the streams a-flowing. But why begin before there's need? The pleasure's to come, you know." The reason he called him _Puteus_ was that this is the Latin for a well, and so afforded opportunity for his allusions, and at the same time for a vile attempt at wit, _i.e._, to call him _Mr. Beauteous_.' 'Can it be possible,' said Miss F., 'that anyone could be so cruel, cowardly, and fiend-like as to rejoice over pain, and make fun of a poor young fellow he was going to punish? I cannot believe it.' 'Don't, then,' said the heartless Baronet, turning away and laughing, 'but nevertheless it's fact, pure and simple.' Sir Charles then sauntered away, leaving Miss Freeman considerably mystified, and in an unsatisfactory state of doubt as to how far she was to believe the various unpleasant statements made by her new acquaintance.