It was so much worse punishment than a flogging could possibly be, that all Dr. Marks' boys heard “Coventry” with a chill that stopped many a prank in mid-air.
But Joel didn't get into “Coventry” after all, for at the foot of the stairs, another candle-beam was advancing; and back of it was the thin, sharp face of Mr. Harrow, one of the under-teachers.
“Oh Mr. Harrow,” screamed Joel, breaking away from the matron, to plunge up to him, “she's going to put me into Coventry. Oh, don't make me go there; it will kill my Mamsie, and Polly.”
“Hey?” Mr. Harrow came to a sudden stop, and whirled the candlestick around to get a better view of things. “What's this, Mrs. Fox? And Joel Pepper, of all boys!”
“I know it,” said Mrs. Fox, her candlestick shaking in an unsteady hand. “Well, you see, sir, I was going upstairs to see if little Fosdick had blankets enough; it's turned cold, and you know he's had a sore throat, and——”
“Well, come to the point, Mrs. Fox,” said the teacher, bringing her up quickly. Joel clung desperately to his hand, shaking violently in every limb.
“Oh, yes, sir—well, and I heard a noise outside, so I bethought me to look, and there was this boy climbing up the lightning conductor.”
“Up the lightning conductor?” echoed Mr. Harrow.
“Yes, sir,”—Mrs. Fox's cap-frills trembled violently as she nodded,—“Joel Pepper was climbing up the lightning conductor, sir. And I thought I should have dropped to see him, sir.”
The under-teacher turned and surveyed Joel. “Well, I think, Mrs. Fox,” he said slowly, “if he's been over that lightning conductor to-night, we won't put him in Coventry.”