"To prevent you getting out at night."
The boys could not help laughing this time, and then Peter said, "But why should we want to get out at night, aunt?"
"Why should boys always want to do the things they ought not?" Miss Scudamore said. "I've heard of boys being let down by ropes to go and buy things. I dare say you have both done it yourselves."
"Well, aunt," Tom said, "perhaps we have; but then, you see, that was at school."
"I do not see any difference, nephew. If you will get out at one window, you will get out at another. There is mischief to be done in the country as well as in towns; and so long as there is mischief to do, so long will boys go out of their way to do it. And now I will tell you the rules of this house, to which you will be expected to adhere. It is well to understand things at once, as it prevents mistakes. We breakfast at eight, dine at two, have tea at half-past six, and you will go to bed at half-past eight. These hours will be strictly observed. I shall expect your hands and faces to be washed, and your hairs brushed previous to each meal. When you come indoors you will always take off your boots and put on your shoes in the little room behind this. And now, if you have done dinner I think that you had better go and lie down on your bed, and get two or three hours' sleep. Take your boots off before you get into the bed."
"She means well, Peter," the elder brother said, as they went upstairs, "but I am afraid she will fidget our lives out."
For two or three days the boys wandered about enjoying the beautiful walks, and surprising and pleasing their aunt by the punctuality with which they were in to their meals. Then she told them that she had arranged for them to go to a tutor, who lived at Warley, a large village a mile distant, and who had some eight or ten pupils. The very first day's experience at the school disgusted them. The boys were of an entirely different class to those with whom they had hitherto associated, and the master was violent and passionate.
"How do you like Mr. Jones, nephews?" Miss Scudamore asked upon their return after their first day at school.
"We do not like him at all, aunt. In the first place, he is a good deal too handy with that cane of his."
"'He who spares the rod—'"