The Presidentboardeducation was looking all over the room.

"Come, come," he said, "_where_ is Jehosophat?"

Now that boy couldn't rise, for the tail of his jacket had slid down
in the crack of the seat, and Fatty Hamm was holding it tight so he
couldn't even move.

Again the spectacles of the Presidentboardeducation looked over the
children in grave surprise. They lighted on Jehosophat.

"Come, come, my little man, there's nothing to be afraid of."

And the Presidentboardeducation smiled on him, with that sort of smile
"grownups" always put on when they're going to "do something for your
good," like pulling a tooth, for instance, or offering you castor oil.

There was a drone, too, of voices like the bees outside, and all eyes
were looking at him. He didn't dare look at his mother, who was hoping
so hard that he would "do her proud," or at his father, either. But he
did glance once at the Toyman, who was sitting, looking very
uncomfortable, in a boiled shirt and a stiff collar that almost choked
his adam's apple. His hair was slicked down extra tight, too, and he
kept gazing down into his new store hat. He felt very sorry for
himself, and even sorrier for Jehosophat.

But the Presidentboardeducation was saying,--

"Come, come," again, and then,--