They endured their few morning hours in the Shell patiently, resignedly, and were polite enough to yawn behind their books.

They were rarely put out by their own mistakes, and when occasionally the master dropped upon them with some penalty or remonstrance, they deemed it a pity that anyone should put himself so much about on their account.
Railsford was baffled.

There seemed more hope in the turbulent skirmishers at the back of the room, who at least could now and then be worked upon by thunder, and always, in theory, acknowledged that lessons were things to be learned.

On the first day the "muggers" knew their task well, and Railsford glowed with hope as he expressed his approbation.

But when he came to the gapers his spirits sunk to zero.
They had unfortunately mistaken the passage, or else the page was torn out of their book, or else they had been prevented by colds or sprained wrists or chilblains from learning it.