The name called out applied to him. It had been abbreviated so commonly, however, that its full dignity seemed to daze him for the moment.
Andrew Wildwood slowly arose, his big, fearless eyes fixed dubiously on the schoolmaster.
"Yes, sir," he said.
"Step forward, sir."
Andy Wildwood did so. He was now in full view of the other scholars. Mr. Darrow also arose. He thrust one hand behind his long coat tails, twirling them fiercely. From the little platform that was his throne he glared down at the unabashed Andy. In his other hand he flourished the long black ruler threateningly.
He pointed a terrible finger towards two desks, about four feet apart, at one side of the room. The desk nearest to the wall had its top split clear across, and one corner was splintered off.
"Did you break that desk?" demanded the pedagogue.
Andy's lips puckered slightly in a comical twist. He had a vivid imagination, and the shattered desk suggested an exciting and pleasurable moment in the near past. Some one chuckled at the rear of the room. Andy's face broke into an irrepressible smile.
"Order!" roared the schoolmaster, bringing down the ruler with a loud bang. "Young man, I asked you: did you break that desk?"
"Yes, sir, I'm afraid I smashed it," said Andy in a rather subdued tone.
"It was an accident."