Then did the echoes of the Academy wake to such a bellowing as they had probably never heard before.

With a grip impossible even to struggle against, Waymark held the young imp under his arm, and plied the broken pointer with great vigour; the stripes were almost as loud as the roarings.
There was a rush from the rooms below in the direction of the disturbance; all the boys were in a trice leaping about delightedly on the stairs, and behind them came O'Gree, Egger, and Dr.Tootle himself.
From the room above rushed out all the young Tootles, yelling for help.
Last of all, from still higher regions of the house there swept down a vision of disordered female attire, dishevelled hair, and glaring eyes; it was Mrs.Tootle, disturbed at her toilet, forgetting all considerations of personal appearance at the alarming outcry.

Just as she reached the spot, Waymark's arm dropped in weariness; he flung the howling young monkey into one corner, the stick into another, and deliberately pulled his coat-sleeves into position once more.

He felt vastly better for the exercise, and there was even a smile on his heated face.
"You brutal ruffian!" shrieked Mrs.Tootle.

"How dare you touch my child?
You shall answer for this in the police court, sir." "Waymark," cried her husband, who had struggled to the scene through the crowd of cheering boys, "what's the meaning of this?
You forget yourself, sir.