Mr. Priestley almost strode out of the room.
Outside his own front-door he whisked the atrocious beard off his face and stowed it away in his pocket. Then he proceeded, with an unwontedly brisk air, to keep the appointment for which he had telegraphed nearly three hours ago. And as he proceeded Mr. Priestley smiled abandonedly.
That was on Monday, and thereafter nothing happened, as has already been said, until Thursday.
Perhaps, however, in Laura’s case this statement needs a certain qualification. Something did happen to Laura, and it was Latin grammar. Latin grammar happened to Laura all day long, and in the evenings as well. No pupil less anxious to master Latin grammar could have been found in any school in the country, yet through sheer force of will-power Mr. Priestley caused Laura in two days to learn the five declensions, quite a large proportion of the four conjugations, and to have more than a nodding acquaintance with the intricacies of the adjectives and pronouns.
“Regebam, regebas, regebat,” said Laura wearily on Wednesday evening, “regebamus, regebabitis——”
“Regebatis,” corrected Mr. Priestley relentlessly.
“Regebatis,” said Laura, “regebant.”
“Yes. Now the perfect.”
“Rexi, rexisti, rexit,” Laura droned, “rexeymus——”
“Rex-imus!”