He had already grunted and grumbled to himself
when Arthur went on reading beyond the forty lines; but now that he
had broken down just in the middle of all the long words, the Slogger's
wrath was fairly roused.
"Sneaking little brute," muttered he, regardless of prudence--"clapping
on the water-works just in the hardest place; see if I don't punch his
head after fourth lesson."
"Whose?" said Tom, to whom the remark seemed to be addressed.
"Why, that little sneak, Arthur's," replied Williams.
"No, you shan't," said Tom.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Williams, looking at Tom with great surprise for a
moment, and then giving him a sudden dig in the ribs with his elbow,
which sent Tom's books flying on to the floor, and called the attention
of the master, who turned suddenly round, and seeing the state of
things, said,--
"Williams, go down three places, and then go on."
The Slogger found his legs very slowly, and proceeded to go below Tom
and two other boys with great disgust; and then, turning round and
facing the master, said, "I haven't learnt any more, sir; our lesson is
only forty lines."
"Is that so?" said the master, appealing generally to the top bench. No
answer.
"Who is the head boy of the form?" said he, waxing wroth.
"Arthur, sir," answered three or four boys, indicating our friend.
"Oh, your name's Arthur. Well, now, what is the length of your regular
lesson?"
Arthur hesitated a moment, and then said, "We call it only forty lines,
sir.
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