It was the Master who ended the instant's hush of amaze.
"Whenever I've heard a grown man say he wished he was a boy again," he mused, "I always set him down for a liar.

But, for once in my life, I honestly wish I was a boy, once more.

A boy one day younger and one inch shorter and one pound lighter than Cyril.

I'd follow him out of doors, yonder, and give him the thrashing of his sweet young life.
I'd--" "Oh, do call him back!" begged the Mistress.

"He'll catch his death of cold, and--" "Why will he ?" challenged the Master, without stirring.