“And if any one wants a pencil he can't ask for it unless he gets permission from the master.”
“Capital!” said the old man, rubbing his hands delightedly. “He's the right sort, whatever.”
“And if you keep Thomas home a day or a week, you will have to write to the master about it,” continued Hughie.
“And what for, pray?” said the old man, hastily. “May I not keep—but—Yes, that's a very fine rule, too. It will keep the boys from the woods, I am thinking.”
“But think of big Murdie Cameron holding up his hand to ask leave to speak to Bob Fraser!”
“And why not indeed? If he's not too big to be in school he's not too big for that. Man alive! you should have seen the master in my school days lay the lads over the forms and warm their backs to them.”
“As big as Murdie?”
“Ay, and bigger. And what's more, he would send for them to their homes, and bring them strapped to a wheel-barrow. Yon was a master for you!”
Hughie snorted. “Huh! I tell you what, we wouldn't stand that. And we won't stand this man either.”
“And what will you be doing now, Hughie?” quizzed the old man.