The boys, made confident by past successes, came forward without hesitation as their victim put both hands in his pockets.
"It is a long worm that has no turning," remarked Moore, seizing Patsy by the collar with one hand, while with the other he picked up the ruler from the desk. "This is where Thomas Moore worms--I mean turns. There is sixpence where you won't lose it, my lad."
The dust flew from Patsy's breeches, while from his mouth proceeded vigorous objections to his present treatment.
"Now run, you divil, or I will repeat the dose," cried Moore, throwing the ruler at Micky's bare shins as that youthful conspirator sought safety in headlong flight with Willy before him and Patsy close at his heels. A moment later they appeared outside the window and retaliated with derisive gestures for their recent defeat until Moore ran towards the door as though about to give chase, when the lads, squealing with fright, fled across the fields, disappearing in the distant trees.
"How do you like teaching?" asked Bessie, mischievously, as Moore returned.
"Fine," he said. "Fine, and it's I that pays the fines, little limbs of Satan."
"Remember, you are speaking of my pupils, Mr. Moore," she said threateningly.
"All right," said Moore, "little limbs of Bessie Dyke!"
"Tom!"
"I did n't mean it that way, my dear. Far be it from me to make such indelicate remarks intentionally."