Chas. Eccles.
Headmaster.
George read this notice and experienced a sinking feeling it his stomach. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he whispered, furtively looking down the passage that led to the classrooms. “Doesn’t look very hopeful, does it?”
Brant shrugged. “You can always tell him you can’t read,” he said with a sneer. “He might even believe you.”
George flushed, and without a word walked down the passage to the headmaster’s office. He wished that Robinson was with him. Robo would know what to do. He didn’t care a damn whom he tackled or how rude people were to him
George tapped on the door and waited.
“Come in,” roared a voice.
They entered a small, hare room. A big, fleshy man, with a large blond moustache on a round, flat face, frowned at them.
“Who are you? What do you want?” he shouted in a voice made harsh by constant bullying.
George gave him a nervous smile. “Good morning, Mr Eccles,” he said, his heartiness wavering. “Forgive me for intruding like this, but I was passing, and I felt that you’d be interested to hear that the new edition of the Child’s Self Educator is now ready.”