“Dumpkins, sir,” that youth replied, demurely, and strolled off to a distant part of the playground.
“Dumpkins!” bawled the master. “Dumpkins, why aren’t you playing up?”
But Dumpkins heeded not the voice of authority and continued to loll and gaze heavenward in easy inactivity.
“Dumpkins! Dump-kins!” again he bellowed.
But Dumpkins only took an apple out of his pocket and began to eat it.
He is a hasty-tempered young man that master, and he strode toward the hapless Dumpkins and shook him angrily, exclaiming:
“Why don’t you answer when I call, you cheeky little beggar?”
“Please, sir, you never called me, sir,” expostulated the boy, wriggling in the master’s grip.
“Why, I’ve been shouting ‘Dumpkins’ all over the field for the last five minutes!”
“But, please sir, my name is Jones!”