“It is just what I should expect of a class of cowards who would write an anonymous letter!” snarled the professor. “You must have had nice bringings-up—all of you!”
There were one or two hisses.
“Stop!” exclaimed the teacher. “I’ll not permit that! I will have silence in my classes. Now, Fairfield, try again, and see if you can make any more errors than the last boy!”
Tom, with flushed face, began to recite, but he was stopped almost before he had begun.
“How many times must I tell you that your pronunciation of that word is hopelessly wrong?” snarled Professor Skeel.
“I don’t believe that you ever told me so,” answered Tom quietly.
“Sir!” The professor fairly glared at our hero.
Tom repeated his remark respectfully.
“That’s enough!” cried the teacher. “I will not be insulted by you! Nor by any one in the class! It is evident that none of you know this lesson. You will have it again tomorrow, and, in addition twice the usual amount of Latin to do. I will hammer some knowledge into your heads in spite of yourselves!”
It was a most unfair and unjust task to inflict, and every boy resented it. Yet what could they do? All eyes seemed turned on Tom, and our hero bit his lips to keep back his temper.