"
I felt convinced, too, that I heard something about the "use of the
whip," which put me into a fever of indignation. Just as Mr. Andrewes
was riding off, my father asked some question, to which the reply
was--"Gray."
My head was so full of the tutor that I could not enjoy the stroll
with my father as usual, and was not sorry to get back to Nurse
Bundle, to whom I confided all that I had heard about my future
teacher.
"He's a nasty little man," said I, "not a nice tall gentleman like
Papa or Mr. Andrewes. And Mr. Andrewes saw him yesterday. And Mr.
Andrewes says he's young. And he says he's good-natured; but then what
makes him use whips? And his name is Mr. Gray. And he says the other
little boy was very fond of him, but I don't believe it," I continued,
breaking down at this point into tears, "and they've gone abroad
(sobs) and I wish--boohoo! boohoo--they'd taken _him_!"
With some trouble Nurse Bundle found out the meaning of my rather
obscure speech. Her wrath at the thought of a whip in connection with
her darling was quite as great as my own. But she persisted in taking
a hopeful view of Mr. Gray, and trusting loyally to my father's
judgment, and she succeeded in softening my grief for the time.
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