Chapter Fourteen.
Extra Drill.
Mr Jarman must have felt flattered at the gloomy dead silence which fell on Philosophers and Urbans alike as we looked round and saw him. It was of course impossible to believe he had found us by accident, still less that he had come with any friendly purpose.
He advanced into the middle of the Bottom, watch in hand.
“This is contrary to rules,” said he. “It is now a quarter-past six, and you are half an hour from Low Heath. In addition to which I have already said that fireworks are only to be had with leave. Tempest, you should have put an end to this. You will kindly send me in the name of every boy here. And each of you boys must attend an extra drill to-morrow and write out one hundred lines—except,” added he, catching sight of me, “except Jones iv., whom I have already had to punish, and who must write two hundred lines.”
It was a study to watch Tempest’s face during this speech. It was all he could do to wait to the end.
“It’s not fair,” said he, with pale cheeks and angry brow. “It’s a half-holiday, and boys always get half an hour’s grace.”
“That is not the rule,” said the master.