“Good-bye, sir,” he said shyly.
Mr. Caryll took off two pairs of spectacles and examined Michael through the remaining pair, rasping out the familiar cough as he did so.
“Now, you great booby, what do you want?” he asked.
“Good-bye, sir,” Michael said, more loudly.
“Oh, good-bye,” said Mr. Caryll. “You’ve been a very idle boy”—cough—cough—“and I”—cough—cough—“I don’t think I ever knew such an idle boy before.”
“I’ve had a ripping time in your class, sir,” said Michael.
“What do you mean?”—cough—cough—“are you trying to be impudent?” exclaimed Mr. Caryll, hastily putting on a second pair of spectacles to cope with the situation.
“No, sir. I’ve enjoyed being in your class. I’m sorry I was so low down in the list. Good-bye, sir.”
Mr. Caryll seemed to realize at last that Michael was being sincerely complimentary, so he took off all the pairs of spectacles and beamed at him with an expression of the most profound benignity.
“Oh, well”—cough—cough—“we can’t all be top”—cough—cough—“but it’s a pity you should be so very low down”—cough—cough—“you’re a Scholar too, which makes it much worse. Never mind. Good boy at heart”—cough— cough—“better luck in your next form”—cough—cough. “Hope you’ll enjoy yourself on your holidays.”