“Yes, sir.”
“A bad beginning, Evson; bring me no excuses in future. You must write the lesson out.” And an ominous entry implying this fact was written by Walter’s freshly-entered name. Most men would have excused the first punishment, and contented themselves with a word of admonition; but this wasn’t Mr Paton’s way. He held with Escalus that—
“Mercy is not itself that oft looks so!
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.”
(Measure for Measure, act two, scene 1.)
Now it happened that Walter hated excuses, and had always looked on them as first cousins to lies, and he determined never again to render to Mr Paton any reason which could by any possibility be construed into an excuse. He therefore had to undergo a large amount of punishment, which he flattered himself could not by any possibility have been avoided.
On this occasion Henderson was also turned, and with him a boy named Bliss. It was quite impossible for Henderson to be unemployed on some nonsense, and heedless of the fact that he was himself Bliss’s companion in misfortune, he opened a poetry-book, and taking Lycidas as his model, sat unusually still, while he occupied himself in composing a “Lament for Blissidas,” beginning pathetically—
“Poor Blissidas is turned; turned ere his prime
Young Blissidas, and hath not left his peer;
Who would not weep for Blissidas? He knew
Himself to say his Rep.—but give him time—
He must not quaff his glass of watery beer
Unchaffed, or write, his paper ruled and lined,
Without the meed of some melodious jeer.”
“I’ll lick you, Flip, after school,” said the wrathful Bliss, shaking his fist, as Henderson began to whisper to him this monody.
“Why do they call you Flip?” asked Walter laughing.
“Short for Flibberty-gibbet,” said Bliss.
“Bliss, Henderson, and Evson, do me two hundred lines each,” said Mr Paton; and so on this, his first morning in school, a second punishment was entered against Walter’s name.