Fable of a very naughty boy.
“Spare the rod, sir,” begged Featherstone, hopefully.
“I take no pleasure in this, Featherstone,” said the Headmaster, “but this is the third time you’ve been sent to see me in as many weeks, and I fear that sparing the rod will not deter you from being sent to me again next week.”
“Oh, it will, sir, I promise it will,” pleaded young Cuthbert Featherstone, doing his utmost to simulate a reformed character.
As much as the Headmaster wanted to believe him, he knew enough about boys of Featherstone’s type not to. It was true that he took no pleasure in administering the cane; he looked upon it as a regrettable but necessary evil. Still, he thought, perhaps there is another way.
“Look here, Featherstone,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “you will not receive six of the best, as I originally intended. You have given an assurance that there will be no future offences on your part, and I am prepared to take you at your word, but mark me well, boy, one more incident this term and I will have you shot. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, thank you, sir,” gabbled the relieved and delighted Featherstone, who had only registered the words “will not receive six of the best”.
“I shall expect your behaviour to be exemplary for the rest of the term; not a foot wrong, mind.”
“Yes, sir,” said Featherstone, nodding vigorously.
The very next week, Featherstone was observed behaving suspiciously by Mister Bodge, the school caretaker. He was removing the nuts from the front wheels of his house master’s car at the time, the consequences of which turning out to be pretty much what he was hoping for. The caretaker’s failure to report the matter immediately was not due to complacency, but a tactical move. There was bad blood between Mister Bodge and the house master, so he was quite happy to let events run their course as far as the missing wheel nuts were concerned. Also, having been the victim of Featherstone’s tricks himself on several occasions, and recognizing a golden opportunity to settle the score, he reasoned that to delay his report, and let Featherstone be responsible for actual damage, rather than mere intended damage, would land him in considerably hotter water.
The caretaker’s information, when he eventually divulged it, was duly noted, and he was asked to make no further mention of it elsewhere. The Housemaster was reimbursed by the school for the damage to his car, and persuaded to let the matter rest. Featherstone, who by now was satisfied that he had got away with it, spent the days leading up to the following weekend feeling rather pleased with himself. On the Monday, however, as he was leaving morning assembly, hands in pockets and whistling cheerfully, he was shot dead with a single bullet to the head, by an unknown assassin.