Much to the disappointment of the boys, Mr. Lathrop seemed to find no
occasion for opening his desk. It remained closed through the whole
afternoon and, when the moment for dismissal arrived, the only one to
remain was Tom Britt, who, while conducting himself fairly well, had
made a bad failure with every recitation. His mind seemed to be too
pre-occupied with some other matter to absorb book knowledge.
The boys loitered around the playground, waiting to see the end of it
all. Tom sat with his hands supporting his head, and his elbow on the
desk, morose, sullen and disappointed.
"I wonder if he suspects anything," he muttered; "I don't see how he
can, for nobody told him. It's queer he has never opened his desk all
the afternoon. I never knew him to do anything like that
before--Gracious alive!"
Just then Tom felt as if some one had jabbed a burning needle into his
neck. Almost at the same instant came a similar dagger thrust on the
top of his head, where he always wore his hair short. Uttering a gasp
of affright, he leaped from his seat, with a score of fierce hornets
buzzing about his ears. The terrified glance around the room showed
that the teacher had slipped noiselessly out of the door, but, before
doing so, he had raised the lid of his desk to its fullest extent.
The next moment Tom bounded through the door, striking at the insects
that were doing painful execution about the exposed parts of his body.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220