h shook his head, as much as to
say, "It is not that."

No--it was not the pain. It was the being punished in open school, and
when he did not feel that he deserved it. How should he know where Lamb
was taking him? How should he know that the ginger-beer was to be paid
for, and that he was to pay? He felt himself injured enough already:
and now to be punished in addition! He would have died on the spot for
liberty to tell Mr Tooke and everybody what he thought of the way he
was treated. He had felt his mother hard sometimes; but what had she
ever done to him compared with this? It was well he thought of his
mother. At the first moment, the picture of home in his mind nearly
made him cry--the thing of all others he most wished to avoid while so
many eyes were on him; but the remembrance of what his mother expected
of him--her look when she told him _he must not fail_, gave him courage.
Hard as it was to be, as he believed, unjustly punished, it was better
than having done anything very wrong--anything that he really could not
have told his mother.

Mr Carnaby foresaw that a rebuke was in store for him for his
negligence during the walk on Saturday; and this anticipation did not
sweeten his mood. He kept the little boys waiting, though Holt was
trembling very much, and still weak from his illness. It occurred to
the usher that another person might be made uncomfortable; and he
immediately acted on the idea. He had observed how fond of one another
Dale and Hugh had become; and he thought he would plague Dale a little.
He therefore summoned him, and desired him to go, and bring him a
switch, to cane these boys with.

"I have broken my cane; so bring me a stout switch," said he. "Bring me
one out of the orchard; one that will lay on well--one that will not
break with a good hard stroke;--mind what I say--one that will not
break."

"Yes, sir," replied Dale, readily; and he went as if he was not at all
unwilling. Holt shivered. Hugh never moved.

It was long, very long, before Dale returned. When he did, he brought a
remarkably stout broomstick.

"This won't break, I think, sir," said he.

The boys giggled. Mr Carnaby knuckled Dale's head as he asked him if
he called that a switch.

"Bring me a _switch_" said he. "One that is not too stout, or else it
will not sting. It must sting, remember,--sting well. Not too stout,
remember."

"Yes, sir," said Dale; and away he went again.

He was now gone