“I don’t wonder,” said his mother.  “I will tell you what I will do.  I will send a letter to Mr. Stone by you, asking him to call here this evening.  I will then take occasion to express my opinion of his conduct.”

“That’s good, mother,” said Godfrey, joyfully.

He knew that his mother had a sharp tongue, and he longed to hear his mother “give it” to the teacher whom he hated.

“Then, you think I had better go to school this afternoon?”

“Yes, with the note.  If Mr. Stone does not apologize, you need not go to-morrow.  I will go upstairs and write it at once.”

The note was quickly written, and, putting it carefully in his inside pocket, Godfrey went to school.  As he entered the schoolroom he stepped up to the desk and handed the note to Mr. Stone.

“Here is a note from my mother,” he said, superciliously.

“Very well,” said the teacher, taking it gravely.

As it was not quite time to summon the pupils, he opened it at once.

This was what he read: 

“Mr. Stone:  Sir—­My son Godfrey informs me that you have
treated him in a very unjust manner, for which I find it
impossible to account.  I shall be glad if you can find time
to call at my house this evening, in order that I may hear
from your lips an explanation of the occurrence.  Yours, in
haste,

          
                                                            “Lucinda Preston.”

“Preston,” said Mr. Stone, after reading this note, “you may say to your mother that I will call this evening.”

He did not appear in the least disturbed by the contents of the note he had received from the richest and—­in her own eyes—­the most important lady in the village.  In fact, he had a large share of self-respect and independence, and was not likely to submit to browbeating from anyone.  He tried to be just in his treatment of the scholars under his charge, and if he ever failed, it was from misunderstanding or ignorance, not from design.  In the present instance he felt that he had done right, and resolved to maintain the justice of his conduct.

Nothing of importance occurred in the afternoon.  Godfrey was very quiet and orderly.  He felt that he could afford to wait.  With malicious joy, he looked forward to the scolding Mr. Stone was to get from his mother.

“He won’t dare to talk to her,” he said to himself.  “I hope she’ll make him apologize to me.  He ought to do it before the school.”

Evidently Godfrey had a very inadequate idea of the teacher’s pluck, if he thought such a thing possible.

School was dismissed, and Godfrey went home.  He dropped a hint to Ben Travers, that his mother was going “to haul Mr. Stone over the coals,” as he expressed it.

“Are you going to be there?” asked Ben, when Godfrey had finished.

“Yes,” said Godfrey.  “It’ll be my turn then.”