Mr O’Gallagher tossed me some bread but this time reserved the cheese for his own eating. I had adjusted my dress, and I therefore left the school-room. I could not sit down without pain, so I leant against a post: the bread remained in my hand untouched; had it been the greatest delicacy in the world I could not have tasted a morsel; I was giddy from excess of feeling, my thoughts were rapidly chasing each other when I heard a voice close to me; I looked round, it was Walter Puddock, who had been flogged the day before.
“Never mind, Keene,” said he, kindly; “it hurts at first, but the more you get it the less you care for it; I don’t mind it a bit now; I cries, because he goes on flogging till you do, and it’s no use having more than you can help.”
“I didn’t deserve it,” replied I.
“That’s not necessary; you’ll get it, as we all do, whether you deserve it or not.”
“Well, I’ll try to deserve it in future,” replied I, clenching my fist; “I’ll be even with him.”
“Why, what can you do?”
“Wait a little, and you’ll see,” said I, walking away, for an idea had come into my head which I wished to follow up.
Soon afterwards the bell rang, and we returned to the schoolroom. I was put under the tuition of another boy, and took care to learn my lesson. Whether it was that he was tired with the exercise, for he flogged and ferruled a dozen during that afternoon, or that he thought that my morning dose had been sufficient, I received no more punishment on that day.