“All right, sir.”
Bernard was about to leave the room, when he turned as if struck by a sudden thought.
“May I inquire, Mr. Snowdon,” he asked, “what authority you have for calling me ‘a bad lot’?”
“I have the authority of Cornelius McCracken, your guardian.”
“Does he say I am a bad lot?” asked Bernard, his brow contracting.
“Yes, he did.”
“When did he say it?”
“In a letter I received last week.”
“May I see the letter, Mr. Snowdon?”
“Yes,” answered the teacher, “if it will give you any satisfaction.”