A hush of expectancy, of rare excitement, pervaded the room. The
schoolmaster swung aloft the ruler with one hand. He swung Andy around
directly in front of him with the other hand.

Andy's face suddenly grew serious. He tugged to get loose.

"Hold on, Mr. Darrow," he spoke quickly. "You mustn't strike me."

"How? what! defiance on top of rebellion!" shouted the irate pedagogue.
"Keep your seats!" he roared, as half the school came upright under the
tense strain of the moment.

The next he was struggling with Andy. Forward and backward then went
over the clear recitation space. The ruler was dropped in the scrimmage.
As Mr. Darrow stooped to repossess it, Andy managed to break loose.

Dodging behind the zinc shield that fronted the stove, he caught its top
with both hands. He moved about presenting a difficult barrier against
easy capture. Andy looked pretty determined now. The schoolmaster was so
angry that his face was as red as a piece of flannel. He advanced again
upon the culprit, so choked up that his lips made only inarticulate
sounds.

"One minute, please, Mr. Darrow," said Andy. "You mustn't try to whip
me. I can't stand it, and I won't. It hasn't been the rule here, ever. I
did wrong, though I couldn't help it, and I'm sorry for it. I'll stand
double study and staying in from recess and after school for a month, if
you say so. You can put me in the dark hole and keep me without my
dinner as long as you like. I have lots of good friends here. I'd be
ashamed to face them after a whipping--and I won't!"