Denmark -- Social life and customs; Ribe (Denmark)
Little as he relished the job of thrashing a boy, the Rector hated
meanness in him worse. It was the discovery of such a streak in me
that brought me the most thorough caning of my school life at his
hands. Hans and I, who perennially disputed the seat next to the head
of the class--when it stood in a circle--had been engaged in a combat
that was undecided when the bell summoned us to our lessons. Flushed
with the hope of victory, Hans hit upon the idea of setting the clock
ahead, that we might the sooner have it out. The clock was in our
class room, and it was easily enough done, but in his eagerness Hans
forgot prudence and set it three-quarters of an hour ahead, so that
recitations were no sooner begun than they were at an end. Whereupon
there was an investigation, and the culprit was found. This was a
matter that called for the big stick, as being at once dishonest and
foolish, and Hans was commanded to wait after school had gone home.
Now it befell that I was getting a book out of the library in the next
room when Hans’ shrieks rose high between the dull thuds of “Master
Erik.” I will not attempt to excuse my conduct; I despise it. Probably
the defeat I had so narrowly escaped rankled. I crept up to the door
and listened. Meanly rejoicing at his plight, I pressed my ear to
the key-hole to hear more, and leaned with my whole weight. I hadn’t
noticed that the door was not shut tight, and suddenly it swung open,
and I fell into the other room with my arm full of books,--fell right
at Rector’s feet and lay sprawling there.
He gave me an amazed glance, paused an instant with uplifted stick,
and comprehended. A look of stern disgust swept over his face; he
let go of Hans and, seizing me, administered to me the worse half of
the interrupted thrashing. Hans got square. I can see him yet as he
stood in his corner wiping his eyes to keep from grinning. The utterly
exasperating thing about it was the look of shocked innocence at the
disclosure of such baseness that sat upon his face. As if he--ugh!
[Illustration: THE LATIN SCHOOL TEACHERS.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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