As yet, Eric had never been caned. It would have been easy for him in
this case to clear himself without mentioning names, but (very rightly)
he thought it unmanly to clamor about being punished, and he felt
nettled at Mr. Gordon's merely official belief of his word. He knew that
he had his faults, but certainly want of honor was not among them.
Indeed, there were only three boys out of the twenty in the form, who
did not resort to modes of unfairness far worse than the use of cribs,
and those three were Russell, Owen, and himself; even Duncan, even
Montagu, inured to it by custom, were not ashamed to read their lesson
off a concealed book, or copy a date from a furtive piece of paper. They
would have been ashamed of it before they came to Roslyn school, but the
commonness of the habit had now made them blind or indifferent to its
meanness. It was peculiarly bad in the fourth form, because the master
treated them with implicit confidence, and being scrupulously honorable
himself, was unsuspicious of others. He was therefore extremely
indignant at this apparent discovery of an attempt to overreach him in
a boy so promising and so much of a favorite as Eric Williams.

"Hold out your hand," he repeated.

Eric did so, and the cane tingled sharply across his palm. He could bear
the pain well enough, but he was keenly alive to the disgrace; he, a boy
at the head of his form, to be caned in this way by a man who didn't
understand him, and unjustly too! He mustered up an indifferent air,
closed his lips tight, and determined to give no further signs. The
defiance of his look made Mr. Gordon angry, and he inflicted in
succession five hard cuts on either hand, each one of which, was more
excruciating than the last.