“No; I say; don’t do that,” said Dexter piteously. “He wouldn’t like it.”
“I cannot help that, sir. I have my duty to perform. Anybody can do those childish history and grammatical questions; it is the classical and mathematical lessons in which I wish you to excel. Now, once more. No, no, you must not refer to the book. ‘In any right-angled triangle, the square of the side—’ Now, go on.”
Dexter took up a slate and pencil, wrinkled up his forehead as nearly like the tutor’s as he could, and slowly drew a triangle.
“Very good,” said Mr Limpney. “Now, go on.”
Dexter stared at his sketch, then helplessly at his instructor.
“I ought to write ABC here, oughtn’t I, sir?”
“Yes, of course. Go on.”
Dexter hesitated, and then put a letter at each corner.
“Well, have it that way if you like,” said Mr Limpney.
“I don’t like it that way, sir,” said Dexter. “I’ll put it your way.”