"Bailey!" cried Mr. Shane.
"Look here, I want to go down to the village. I suppose I may, mayn't I?"
"Mrs. Fletcher said no one was to go out if it rained," stammered Mr. Shane.
"If you don't let me go, I'll burn this rubbish!" Bertie flourished the ruined grammar in the tutor's face. Mr. Shane made a dart to recover his property; but Bertie was too quick for him, and sprang aside beyond his reach. It is not improbable that if it had come to a tussle Mr. Shane would have got the worst of it.
"Who's got a match?" asked Bertie. Some one produced half a dozen. "Will you let me go?"
"Don't burn it," said Mr. Shane. "It cost me half a crown; I only bought it last week."
"Then let me go."
"What'll Mrs. Fletcher say?"
"How's she to know unless you tell her? I'll be back before tea. I don't care if it cost you a hundred half-crowns, I'll burn it. Make up your mind. Is it going to cost you half a crown to keep me in?"
Bertie struck a match. Mr. Shane attempted to rush forward to put it out, but some of the boys held him back. His heart went out to his book as though it were a child.