“Yes, I dare say. Of course. Here, what boy’s that?”
He pointed with his cane to a pair of round blue eyes, quite at the back.
“That, sir—that lame boy!”
“No, no; that young quicksilver customer with the curly poll.”
“Oh! that, sir! He wouldn’t do,” cried the two masters almost in a breath.
“How do you know!” said the doctor tartly.
“Very bad boy indeed, sir, I’m sorry to say,” said the schoolmaster.
“Yes, sir; regular young imp; so full of mischief that he corrupts the other boys. Can’t say a word in his favour; and, besides, he’s too young.”
“How old?”
“About eleven, sir.”