“What are you punishing him for?” asked Tom Allen, quietly.
“For laughing out in school.”
“The rest of the scholars have done the same. Are you going to punish them, too?”
“I shall punish some of them,” said the teacher, with a smile of complacent malice. “John Sandford laughed loudest. His turn will come next.”
By this time it was very clear to all present what the two boys were to be punished for. The laughing was only a pretext. They were to be flogged for their participation in the practical joke of the day before.
“Mr. Slocum,” said Tom Allen, “I am the greatest offender. The boys only laughed, but I drew the picture.”
“You did not laugh,” said Mr. Slocum, uneasily.
“Still, if anybody is to be punished, I am the one. Here is my hand. You may ferule me, if you like.”
Tom Allen’s hand was hardened by labor, and he would not have minded the feruling in the least. But Mr. Slocum had no desire to ferule Tom. His animosity was not excited against him, but against Julius and John. He wanted to punish them, and so wipe out the grudge he had against them.
“I don’t choose to punish you,” said Theophilus, “though you have been guilty of inciting disorder.”{159}