Before suppertime there were six boys in Edward’s room. “If you fellers would only behave decently in class,” said Edward, feeling like a man of the world surrounded by his friends, “we’d have s’more parties like this....” Edward stayed at the school for a month. The boys were almost fatherly to him. Edward ceased to assert authority. His system was based entirely on bribes. The system seemed to answer. Only once during the month the headmaster sent a note to ask that less noise be made in Class C. That was when a boy hid behind the blackboard and over-turned it upon Edward. This amused even the good boys. “A joke’s a joke,” said Edward with tears in his eyes. The blackboard had shaken tears into his eyes. Two of the big boys had their arms around his neck, were roaring yells of laughter into his ear. “This joke’s certainly on me. Oh, come now, go easy.” He was straining after laughter. He thought, “That’s the way to take boys, no frills, no airs....” He thought he was fond of the boys. He knew they were not fond of him. He was terribly afraid of them. The note from the headmaster was handed to him. “A letter from Daisy ... he says we’re making too much noise, fellers.” He did not drink much in the day-time. Whisky in such hot weather made him tremble, made him unable to bear the noise and difficulty of the class room. But after dinner, when at least it was dark and one could pretend that the heat was lifted, he drank a good deal and was comforted. But he saved a great deal of his salary. He thought he would look for an opportunity to leave. He would be ill; it was quite easy for him to seem ill. He would be obliged to go and see a great American doctor in Peking about his hearing. He had been engaged for three months, in the absence on sick leave of one of the regular teachers, but he had no sense of responsibility to the school. His brain was full of prospective interviews with the headmaster. “I suffer terribly with my ears and my sinuses. I have just had a most dangerous operation. I need hardly say it will be a matter of real regret to me to leave the dear boys....” The headmaster would say, “Of course, of course, I quite understand.” Edward had not only no objection to telling lies, he even failed as a rule to notice how broadly he lied. He did not have a chance to excite the sympathy of the headmaster. He was turned out of the school one Sunday.