"Quite sure, sir," he replied with a laugh.
"Go to blazes," I said, "and take your vulgar guffaws with you."
On my way back I stayed to admire the classical busts and statues that lined the deserted corridors like exhibits in a museum. All the life-size ones I whacked with my cane. I took a wistful pleasure in giving the naked ones two good strokes each. As I drew near the class-room door I certainly felt uncomfortable, for I knew Fillet intended to sting. But my sense of martyrdom carried me through. I gathered my dignity about me and knocked heavily on the door. Annoyed that my hand had trembled and spoilt the effect, I opened the door briskly and shut it briskly. With a calm step and fearless look, both studied, for I copied Doe in these matters, I walked towards Carpet Slippers. The little man was pretending he had forgotten all about me, while really he had prepared a sarcasm with which to poison my wounds.
"Oh, indeed. You've b-been a long time gone; but thrashings are like good wine—they improve with keeping."
He sucked in his breath with satisfaction.
"Yes, sir," replied I. If there was any trembling about me it was inside and not visible.
He took the cane from my hand and examined its effectiveness. Then, intending a pretty little jest, he faced the class and commanded:
"St-stand out, that boy who asked the number of the sum after I had put it on the board."
"Swine!" hissed somebody. I fancy it was Edgar Doe.
"I'm here, sir," replied I from his side, white.