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There was a titter round
the room.
"Silence," thundered the master; "this is no matter for laughing. So,
sir, _this_ is the way you get up to the top of the form?"
"I wasn't using it, sir," said Eric.
"Not using it! Why, I saw you put it, open, under your Homer."
"It isn't mine, sir."
"Then whose is it?" Mr. Gordon looked at the fly leaf, but of course no
name was there; in those days it was dangerous to write one's name in a
translation.
Eric was silent.
"Under the circumstances, Williams, I must punish you," said Mr. Gordon.
"Of course I am _bound_ to believe you, but the circumstances are very
suspicious. You had no business with such a book at all. Hold out
your hand."
As yet, Eric had never been caned. It would have been easy for him in
this case to clear himself without mentioning names, but (very rightly)
he thought it unmanly to clamor about being punished, and he felt
nettled at Mr. Gordon's merely official belief of his word. He knew that
he had his faults, but certainly want of honor was not among them.


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