It was all for the boy's own good, and so
the blows fell thick and heavy upon the little back and hips.
Robert bit his lip to repress the roar of pain that wanted to escape. He
would not cry, and this was another spur to the efforts of Mr. Clapper.
The boy's flesh twitched and quivered at every blow, yet never a cry
came from him. It but served to feed his rebellion, and he struggled and
fought with fury until completely exhausted.
"There now," declared Mr. Clapper, flinging down the "tawse" upon the
table, panting from his exertions and wiping his brow, "I shall leave
you for a time until you decide to speak. If you will not speak when I
return, I shall thrash you again," and he went out, locking the door,
leaving the boy, still proud and unsubdued, but aching in every muscle
and bone of his little body.
Left to himself, Robert very nearly cried, but he dashed the gathering
tears from his eyes, angry at the weakness, and resolved, as he adjusted
his garments, that he would die rather than speak now. He looked round,
and seeing the window raised a little from the bottom, sprang to it, a
sudden resolve in his heart to run away. Just as he got astride the sill
he spied a piece of chalk and the "tawse" on the table, so turning back
he put the "tawse" in his pocket, and with the chalk wrote on the
table:--
"You are an ould pig and I'll not speak, and you'll never put your hands
on your tawse again.
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