' 'Very well,' grunts he. Not a bit of
it though. I was quite sure, in a day or two, that he never took the
table-cloth off even. So I laid a trap for him. I tore up some paper,
and put half a dozen bits on my table one night, and the cloth over them
as usual. Next morning after breakfast up I came, pulled off the cloth,
and, sure enough, there was the paper, which fluttered down on to the
floor. I was in a towering rage. 'I've got you now,' thought I, and sent
for him, while I got out my cane. Up he came as cool as you please, with
his hands in his pockets. 'Didn't I tell you to shake my table-cloth
every morning?' roared I. 'Yes,' says he. 'Did you do it this morning?'
'Yes.' 'You young liar! I put these pieces of paper on the table last
night, and if you'd taken the table-cloth off you'd have seen them, so
I'm going to give you a good licking.' Then my youngster takes one hand
out of his pocket, and just stoops down and picks up two of the bits
of paper, and holds them out to me. There was written on each, in great
round text, 'Harry East, his mark.' The young rogue had found my
trap out, taken away my paper, and put some of his there, every bit
ear-marked. I'd a great mind to lick him for his impudence; but, after
all, one has no right to be laying traps, so I didn't. Of course I was
at his mercy till the end of the half, and in his weeks my study was so
frowzy I couldn't sit in it.
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