Under the green baize table-cloth, on the exact spot where he usually struck, certain boy, whose name I withhold, placed a fat torpedo.

The result was a loud explosion, which caused Mr.
Grimshaw to look queer.

Charley Marden was at the water-pail, at the time, and directed general attention to himself by strangling for several seconds and then squirting a slender thread of water over the blackboard.
Mr.Grimshaw fixed his eyes reproachfully on Charley, but said nothing.
The real culprit (it wasn't Charley Marden, but the boy whose name I withhold) instantly regretted his badness, and after school confessed the whole thing to Mr.Grimshaw, who heaped coals of fire upon the nameless boy's head giving him five cents for the Fourth of July.

If Mr.Grimshaw had caned this unknown youth, the punishment would not have been half so severe.
On the last day of June the Captain received a letter from my father, enclosing five dollars "for my son Tom," which enabled that young gentleman to make regal preparations for the celebration of our national independence.

A portion of this money, two dollars, I hastened to invest in fireworks; the balance I put by for contingencies.