"I don't like the idea of being put into a strait jacket, and tied to a bell rope."
"It would be hard for you."
"I can't stand it, any how. I have made up my mind to be a saint. I intend to keep out of all scrapes, and behave with perfect propriety all the time, night and day."
"I hope you are not jesting, Richard," said Bertha, who did not like the facetious language with which he clothed his resolutions.
"I'm in earnest. I mean every word I say. I solemnly promise you that I will be a pattern of propriety; but I don't like the Tunbrook Military Institute. I don't like the idea of being tied down to Colonel Brockridge's little finger; of being drummed and fifed here and there; and of reciting a Latin lesson at six o'clock in the morning, after an hour's drill on the parade ground. Berty, to tell you the truth, I don't believe I shall be able to keep my good resolutions, if I am to be tied to a bell rope, or have to move by the tap of a drum."
"I hope you will."
"If I could stay at home, and have my pony and my boat, I should do first rate."
Whatever the experienced reader may think of Richard's sincerity, he was uttering an honest opinion. He sincerely feared that his courage would not be equal to the work of submitting to the discipline of Tunbrook, and conquering himself, at one and the same time. Tunbrook and Colonel Brockridge seemed to be formidable obstacles in the path of reform.
"You would soon get used to the discipline of the Institute," suggested Bertha.
"I might get used to it as the old man's horse got used to living upon shavings—when he died. If I go, I shall try to submit; but I don't want to go."