"
By this time the boys were all in school. "There is not one prig in the
whole lot," said the headmaster sadly. "I wish there was, but only those
boys come here who are notoriously too good to become current coin in the
world unless they are hardened with an alloy of vice. I should have
liked to show you our gambling, book-making, and speculation class, but
the assistant-master who attends to this branch of our curriculum is gone
to Sunch'ston this afternoon. He has friends who have asked him to see
the dedication of the new temple, and he will not be back till Monday. I
really do not know what I can do better for you than examine the boys in
Counsels of Imperfection."
So saying, he went into the schoolroom, over the fireplace of which my
father's eye caught an inscription, "Resist good, and it will fly from
you. Sunchild's Sayings, xvii. 2." Then, taking down a copy of the work
just named from a shelf above his desk, he ran his eye over a few of its
pages.
He called up a class of about twenty boys.
"Now, my boys," he said, "Why is it so necessary to avoid extremes of
truthfulness?"
"It is not necessary, sir," said one youngster, "and the man who says
that it is so is a scoundrel."
"Come here, my boy, and hold out your hand." When he had done so, Mr.
Turvey gave him two sharp cuts with a cane.
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