“To be paid with interest,” thought Vince.
“Oh! you jolly sneak, to give it up!” thought Mike, as the tutor read the paper on both sides.
“I am very sorry,” he said, after coughing to clear his voice—“very sorry to have to exercise my authority towards you two, who have been acting this morning like a pair of inattentive, idle schoolboys; but when I undertook to act as your tutor, it was with the full understanding that I was to have complete authority over you, and that you were both to treat me with proper respect.”
The boys sat silent and feeling horribly guilty. If Humphrey Deane had been an overbearing, blustering personage, they might have felt ready to resent his words; but the injured tone, the grave, gentle manner of the invalid went right home to both, and they listened, with their eyes upon their scanty display of work, as the tutor went on.
“You both know,” he said, “that my health will not permit of much strain, but so long as you both work with me and try your best, it is a pleasure to me, and no one could feel more gratification than I do when you get on.”
“Mr Deane,” began Vince.
“One moment, and I have done,” continued the tutor. “You well know that I try to make your studies pleasant.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mike.
“And that when the morning’s work is over I am only too glad to join you in any amusement or excursion. I ask you, then, is it fair, when you see I am unwell, to make my endeavours to help you a painful toil, from your carelessness and inattention?”
“No, Mr Deane,” said Vince quickly; “it’s too bad, and I’m very sorry. There!”