The desk was much too small for him and he had to wiggle to get free
from it. The lid banged. Instantly every boy had turned in his seat
to gaze at him, and he saw that this was the worst place that could
have fallen to his lot. In his corner he was trapped, a sea of
mocking, curious faces between him and his tormentors.
The clergyman smiled palely at him.
"I understand that you are a new boy, Stonehouse, and I don't wish to
be too severe with you. At the same time we must begin as we are to go
on. And you were not behaving very well at prayers this morning, were
you?"
Robert moved his lips soundlessly. But no answer was expected of him.
The question was rhetorical. "You weren't," the enemy said,
"attending. You were trying to make your companions laugh----"
This, at least, was unbearably unjust.
"I wasn't," Robert interrupted loudly.
Someone moved to compassion hissed, "Say 'sir'--say sir,'" but he was
beyond help. From that moment on he was beyond fear. He dug himself
in, dogged and defiant.
"Come now, Stonehouse, I saw you myself. You were only pretending to
join in, now weren't you? How was it? Didn't you know the prayer?"
"No."
"Don't be so abrupt, my boy. Say 'sir' when you answer me. How is it
that you don't know it? You go to church, don't you?"
"No."
"Say 'sir.'"
"Sir."
"Well, chapel, then. You go to chapel, no doubt?"
Robert stared blankly.
"You don't? But surely your mother takes you----"
"I haven't got a mother.
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