"I don't object to your theory," says the master, "and I allow you have
made a fair case for yourself. But now, in such books as Aristophanes,
for instance, you've been reading a play this half with the Doctor,
haven't you?"
"Yes, the Knights," answered Tom.
"Well, I'm sure you would have enjoyed the wonderful humour of it twice
as much if you had taken more pains with your scholarship."
"Well, sir, I don't believe any boy in the form enjoyed the sets-to
between Cleon and the Sausage-seller more than I did--eh, Arthur?" said
Tom, giving him a stir with his foot.
"Yes, I must say he did," said Arthur. "I think, sir, you've hit upon
the wrong book there."
"Not a bit of it," said the master. "Why, in those very passages of
arms, how can you thoroughly appreciate them unless you are master of
the weapons? and the weapons are the language, which you, Brown, have
never half worked at; and so, as I say, you must have lost all the
delicate shades of meaning which make the best part of the fun."
"Oh, well played! bravo, Johnson!" shouted Arthur, dropping his bat and
clapping furiously, and Tom joined in with a "Bravo, Johnson!" which
might have been heard at the chapel.
"Eh! what was it? I didn't see," inquired the master. "They only got one
run, I thought?"
"No, but such a ball, three-quarters length, and coming straight for his
leg bail.
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