Perkins. Mr. Perkins himself
could not keep a straight face. He turned abruptly away and
looked out of the window, but we could see his shoulders shaking.
When Cecily had finished and had thrown down the chalk with bitter
vehemence, he turned around with a very red face.
"That will do. You may sit down. Cyrus, since it seems you are
the guilty person, take the eraser and wipe that off the board.
Then go stand in the corner, facing the room, and hold your arms
straight above your head until I tell you to take them down."
Cyrus obeyed and Cecily fled to her seat and wept, nor did Mr.
Perkins meddle with her more that day. She bore her burden of
humiliation bitterly for several days, until she was suddenly
comforted by a realization that Cyrus had ceased to persecute her.
He wrote no more letters, he gazed no longer in rapt adoration, he
brought no more votive offerings of gum and pencils to her shrine.
At first we thought he had been cured by the unmerciful chaffing
he had to undergo from his mates, but eventually his sister told
Cecily the true reason. Cyrus had at last been driven to believe
that Cecily's aversion to him was real, and not merely the defence
of maiden coyness. If she hated him so intensely that she would
rather write that note on the blackboard than sit with him, what
use was it to sigh like a furnace longer for her? Mr.
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