“The first class will come up and say their tasks.”
Not a boy moved in his seat.
“The first class will come up and say their tasks,” the master repeated, bringing his cane down with angry emphasis on the desk.
Still no one moved.
“What does this mean?” he shouted, rising from his seat.
“It means, sir,” Ned Sankey said, rising also, “that we are determined, all of us, that we will learn no more extra tasks. None of us, so far as we know, ever touched your cat, and we are not going to submit to be punished any longer for a fault which none of us have committed.”
“No, no,” rose in a general chorus through the schoolroom, “we will do no more tasks.”
Mr. Hathorn stood petrified with astonishment and white with anger.
“So you are at the bottom of this, Sankey. I will make an example of you.”
So saying, he took a stride forward toward Ned. In an instant a shower of books flew at him from all parts of the room. Infuriated by the attack, he rushed forward with his cane raised. Ned caught up a heavy inkstand.