“As for that,” replied aunt Milly, “I’m sure that sister, if she hears what’s going on, as she cannot take Percival away, will order her husband, Ben, to go up and thrash him.”
“Not a bad idea, Miss Amelia, we’ll try that if we find it necessary; at all events, we’ll see who can persecute most.”
“Granny has told him to treat me ill,” said I, “that’s very clear, from what he said; never mind, I’ll make her sorry for it.”
“Oh Percival! you must not do anything to granny,” said aunt Milly, looking very archly; “I must not hear anything of the kind.”
The next morning I set off with a full conviction that I should be flogged before night, and notwithstanding that, as full of joy as if I was going to the fair.
The morning passed as usual; I said my lesson, but not very well; I was thinking so much of my anticipated revenge, that I could not pay attention to my teacher, who was, as usual, one of the boys.
“Master Keene,” said Mr O’Gallagher, “we’ll let the account stand over till the evening, and then I’ll give you a receipt in full; I may have one or two lines to add to it before the sun goes down; you’ll not escape me this time, anyhow.”
The boys went out at the dinner hour, leaving me, as before, to wait for my basket, after the tyrant had helped himself. I stood by him in silence while he was rummaging its contents.
“Now, Mr Keene, I’ll see if you’ve remembered my particular injunction relative to the mustard.”
“I told my aunt to put more mustard, sir,” replied I, humbly, “it she that cuts the sandwiches.”