The afternoon was waning. It was nearly time to go; and still the rain
was pouring and plashing around. In the gathering gloom there had been
more than the usual amount of wandering from one part of the school to
another, and the elder Bruce had stolen to a form occupied by some
little boys, next to the one on which Annie sat with her back towards
them. If it was not the real object of his expedition, at least he took
the opportunity to give Annie a spiteful dig with his elbow; which,
operating even more powerfully than he had intended, forced from her an
involuntary cry. Now the master indulged in an occasional refinement of
the executive, which consisted in this: he threw the _tawse_ at the
offender, not so much for the sake of hurting--although that, being a
not infrequent result, may be supposed to have had a share in the
intention--as of humiliating; for the culprit had to bear the
instrument of torture back to the hands of the executioner. He threw
the tawse at Annie, half, let us suppose, in thoughtless cruelty, half
in evil jest. It struck her rather sharply, before she had recovered
breath after the blow Bruce had given her. Ready to faint with pain and
terror, she rose, pale as death, and staggered up to the master,
carrying the tawse with something of the same horror she would have
felt had it been a snake.
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