"Now, David," he said, "you must be far more careful to-day than usual." He gave the cane another poise and another switch, and laid it down beside him with an expressive look and took up his book.
This was a good freshener to my presence of mind as a beginning. I felt the words of my lessons slipping off, not one by one, or line by line, but by the entire page. I tried to lay hold of them; but they seemed, if I may so express it, to have put skates on and to skim away from me with a smoothness there was no checking.
We began badly, and went on worse. I had come in, with an idea that I was very well prepared, but it turned out to be quite a mistake. Book after book was added to the heap of failures, Miss Murdstone being firmly watchful of us all the time. And when we came to the last, my mother burst out crying.
"Clara!" said Miss Murdstone, in her warning voice.
Mr. Murdstone laid down his book and stood up, cane in hand.
"David, you and I will go upstairs," he said.
He walked me up to my room slowly and gravely, and when we got there, suddenly twisted my head under his arm.
"Mr. Murdstone! Sir!" I cried to him. "Don't! Pray don't beat me! I have tried to learn, sir, but I can't learn while you and Miss Murdstone are by. I can't indeed!"
"Can't you, indeed, David?" he said. "We'll try that."
He had my head as in a vice, but I twined round him somehow, and stopped him for a moment, entreating him not to beat me. It was only for a moment that I stopped him, for he cut me heavily an instant afterwards, and in the same instant I caught his hand in my mouth, and bit it through. It sets my teeth on edge to think of it!