“Well, he gets too big for his boots: couldn’t carry corn, as the sayin’ is: and that year th’ Gov’ment inspector began to come round, same as you, sir; only he was a minister; and he drops on skulemaster, so I heerd, because us lads couldn’t get our sums right; and skulemaster goes off in a huff.
“I’d only one more master, because I left skule to go to work when I were eleven: and he were a cliver chap. Th’ inspector i’ those days used to zamine us i’ th’ Bible and Catechism, bein’ a minister, I suppose?”
I nodded my head in confession of my disqualification.
“Well, we didn’t do no jography, nor none of them things as they larn ’em now, but we has Scripture; and th’ rector and skulemaster takes it between ’em, and when th’ rector weren’t theer, skulemaster would say, ‘Now, lads, don’t go to sleep; I like to see yer ’ands ’eld up ev’ry time when I ast a question, and mind, if you know the right answer, hold up the right hand; that’s the one as you write with; but if you don’t know, hold up th’ other ’and.’ Well, it tak’s ’im a deal of time to get ’em to remember which were the right ’and, and Bill Tompkins, ’ee ’olds up ’is left ’and, because he always wrote with ’is left ’and; till at last gaffer taks and ties a bit of string round all their right ’ands, and then us got it right.
“But when th’ inspector com round, i’stead of asting skulemaster to zamine the lads, same as the last chap did, he asts ’is own questions, and skulemaster gets scared, and says, ‘Now, boys, don’t ’old up either ’and, unless you know: don’t guess;’ and ’opes th’ inspector will excuse ’im for interruptin’. That fair moithered us all, and not a ’and or a word could th’ inspector get from us.
“Naterally th’ inspector, and rector too, gets a bit shirty, and they turns on skulemaster, but he nowt but smiles at ’em, and says, ‘It’s just seen’ a stranger,’ he says, ‘as they isn’t used to: I think, sir, if you’ll allow me to ast ’em a few questions, they’ll do better.’ Th’ inspector didn’t much like bein’ told as ’ee weren’t a good ’and at the job, but ’ee says, ‘Oh, all right,’ ’ee says, ‘take ’em yourself, by all means,’ ’ee says; and he sets down i’ th’ arm cheer to see skulemaster cut ’is own throat, in a manner of speaking. ‘Now, lads,’ says th’ gaffer, very pleasant like, ‘don’t forget what I tould you about ’oldin’ up your ’ands. Who was Moses?’ and every lad ’olds up one ’and or th’ other. Gaffer, of course, asts only what they’ve been learned, and picks out only th’ right ’ands for th’ answers; an’ ’ee goes on for a quarter of a hour, ’ands up every time, and mostly right answers, theer or theer about, and th’ rector perks up and says it was only bein’ a bit shy, in a manner of speakin’, and ’ee’s very pleased with ’em, and there’d be a school treat next week; and th’ Inspector says ’ee ’asn’t seen a better show of ’ands not in the county. Ee! my word, my word!”
I laughed with Robert; but to think of the villainy of the master, who made the children his conspirators! Did his scripture syllabus include a certain text about a millstone and the depths of the sea?
Robert struck his spade deep in the ground and leant on it, implying that he was coming to something of interest. “Did yo ever meet Master Bibber in skule?” he asked.
“Bibber”? yes; I had seen him in two schools some time ago: he had gone to America and had died there, a good while since.
Robert pondered whether the law of slander, about which the working-man is (fortunately) very timorous, would “cop” him, in Cheshire phrase. “Ah wudna say a word agin ’im i’ that case,” he said: “but ’ee were a rum ’un.”