A teacher has to be so careful about these things.
Mr. Bright seated himself at the table, transferred the name to his register, then took another bit of paper and began writing on it, remarking as he did so:
"You will please occupy the seat in front of you this afternoon, and hereafter. I have written a list of the books you will need," he added, picking up the strip he had just been writing on, "and you will please procure them this afternoon. You will recite with the entering class in this room, according to the programme that is on the board behind my desk."
But "Dodd" did not move a muscle while Mr. Bright spoke. He did not look up, even when reference was made to the programme. He made no response when assigned his seat, or to his place in school. He sulked and frowned and stood out against everything, and was sullen and malicious to the last degree.
To all this, however, Mr. Bright paid no heed. He stepped down to the boy's desk again, put the list of books upon it, then turned and left the room abruptly, without a word.
The act was so sudden, so unlike what "Dodd" had expected, that it left him, for a moment, utterly nonplussed.
He was vexed that he had not been able to get into a fight with a man who had left him alone; and yet, as he raised his eyes cautiously, to make sure that Mr. Bright was really gone, he smiled in spite of himself, at the absurdity of the situation! He felt his cheeks wrinkle up, good-naturedly, as the smile crept over his face from above (I think smiles do come from above), and was angrier than ever. He checked his rising good nature with an oath, and raising his arm, he struck the desk a tremendous blow, that made the cover bound again, and the room echo with the thud. Then he rose, grinding his teeth as he got up, and slowly and noisily banged his way out of the room.
Not till three days after this did he appear again in the school room. During this time he loafed about the town and took particular pains to be where Mr. Bright could see him and have a chance to reprove him. But though his teacher met him several times, he gave "Dodd" no other word than such greeting as true politeness dictated. This was worse than ever, for the boy, who was really "spoiling for a row" by this time. The machine, or the machine man, would have had a row with him. Mr. Bright was not a machine man.
Did you ever hook a big fish, when angling with a light rod and line? If you ever did, and have succeeded in landing your game, then you know something about the situation which I am now noting. You see, when the odds are so much against you, you have to do as you can, and not as you would like to, with the wily fellow at the other end of your weak tackle. That is, if you accomplish what you ought to wish to accomplish, if you fish at all!
Of course, there is a quick way of deciding who shall win, you or the fish, and that is to pull away, with might and main, straight for shore, and undertake to drag your captive to you by sheer muscle, brutally matching your strength against his. But if you try this, you know that the chances are a thousand to one that you will part your line and lose the best end of it, and your game along with it.