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As yet he could be hardly said to know what school was. He had been sent
indeed to Mr. Lawley's grammar-school for the last half-year, and had
learned a few declensions in his Latin grammar. But as Mr. Lawley
allowed his upper class to hear the little boys their lessons, Eric had
managed to get on pretty much as he liked. Only _once_ in the entire
half-year had he said a lesson to the dreadful master himself, and of
course it was a ruinous failure, involving some tremendous pulls of
Eric's hair, and making him tremble like a leaf. Several things combined
to make Mr. Lawley dreadful to his imagination. Ever since he was quite
little, he remembered hearing the howls which proceeded from the "Latin
school" as he passed by, whilst some luckless youngster was getting
caned; and the reverend pedagogue was notoriously passionate. Then,
again, he spoke so indistinctly with his deep, gruff voice, that Eric
never could and never did syllable a word he said, and this kept him in
a perpetual terror. Once Mr.


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