“You could not see me,” answered Joseph, “for I have not done anything very wrong. But I have had a bad thought, and you know Mr. Ironrule says that a fault imagined is just as wicked as a fault committed.”
“You see, ma’am, what a good memory he has,” said Mrs. Watkinson aside to Mrs. Morland. “But my best Joseph, you make your mother tremble. What fault have you imagined? What was your bad thought?”
“Ay,” said another boy, “what’s your thought like?”
“My thought,” said Joseph, “was ‘Confound all astronomy, and I could see the man hanged that made this game.’”
“Oh! my child,” exclaimed the mother, stopping her ears, “I am indeed shocked. I am glad you repented so immediately.”
“Yes,” returned Joseph, “but I am afraid my repentance won’t last. If I am not whipped, I may have these bad thoughts whenever I play at astronomy, and worse still at the geography game. Whip me, ma, and punish me as I deserve. There’s the rattan in the corner: I’ll bring it to you myself.”
“Excellent boy!” said his mother. “You know I always pardon my children when they are so candid as to confess their faults.”
“So you do,” said Joseph, “but a whipping will cure me better.”
“I cannot resolve to punish so conscientious a child,” said Mrs. Watkinson.
“Shall I take the trouble off your hands?” inquired Edward, losing all patience in his disgust at the sanctimonious hypocrisy of this young Blifil. “It is such a rarity for a boy to request a whipping, that so remarkable a desire ought by all means to be gratified.”