his roommate and best friend to deliver the message that had been in his mind all day. “Not me, Bruno. I’m out. I’m sorry. I think it’s great that you have so much school spirit, but this is the end of the line. It’s just too dangerous.”
“Come on, guys,” said Larry. “We’ve got to get to classes.”
They got up and moved out of the dining hall, leaving Brunoall alone, staring at the empty chairs.
* * *
“Look at this, Mildred,” chuckled the Headmaster over the breakfast table. “It’s the greatest cartoon I’ve ever seen!” In the middle of
The Macdonald Hall Free Press
was a drawing of a computer with evil eyes, sharp teeth and a menacing expression. Around its neck was a wide tie clearly marked
WizzleWare
. The tie acted as a leash, and was being held by a little man wearing a T-shirt that said
Call Me Wiz
. In the foreground was the Faculty Building of Macdonald Hall. The computer was spewing a dark cloud, which hung over it.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” said Mrs. Sturgeon. “It’s disrespectful and rude. The boys should be punished. It’s too bad you don’t know who is responsible.”
The Headmaster laughed. “Certainly I know. The cartoon — Talbot, of course. The boy certainly has talent. And this headline
Sanctity of Macdonald Hall Threatened
— that’s obviously Walton. I recognize his flair for the dramatic. This cautious one here is O’Neal — gets right to the point, he does. The intelligent one is Drimsdale, the one about ties inhibiting the intake of food is obviously Hackenschleimer, and there are assorted tidbits from Anderson, Wilson and Rampulsky.”
“They should be punished,” his wife repeated. “Poor Mr. Wizzle.”
“On the contrary, Mildred,” said Mr. Sturgeon seriously, “I think this newspaper is quite an accomplishment. That’s what education is about, after all — to encourage independent thought and self-expression.Our boys have every right to express their own opinions about how this school is run.”
“If they were complaining about
you
, you wouldn’t be so complacent,” accused Mrs. Sturgeon. “Poor Mr. Wizzle will be so upset!”
“If you had seen him dishing out demerits last night, you wouldn’t be quite so sympathetic. He’s antagonizing the boys and they’re not intending to take it lying down. I don’t blame them at all. Mildred, I’m in a very difficult position. I never liked Wizzle and I always considered him and his ideas a nuisance. But now things are serious. The boys aren’t happy here at Macdonald Hall anymore. And Wizzle is so angry over this newspaper that if anything else like it ever happens he’s liable to start talking about expulsion. And the Board just might go along with him. That certainly isn’t what we want at Macdonald Hall.”
“I can see your point,” his wife conceded. “Is there anything you can do privately to calm the boys down a little?”
“Mildred, be realistic. As Headmaster I have to support Board decisions, and Wizzle is a Board decision.” He smiled wryly. “And while I’m mentioning that the boys aren’t content, I guess I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit that I don’t like being a lame-duck Headmaster. I haven’t made an administrative decision yet this year. Wizzle does all that.”
“Oh dear. And the boys really don’t like Mr. Wizzle.”
Mr. Sturgeon sighed. “I’m afraid, Mildred, there are hard times ahead.”
* * *
“Miss Peabody,” said Miss Scrimmage timidly over tea in the Headmistress’s sitting room, “don’t you think you’re being alittle harsh with the girls? All those laps? And calisthenics again this morning?”
“Absolutely not,” replied Miss Peabody. “Those girls are much too soft. But just give me a little more time with them.” She produced Cathy’s letter and chuckled at the mere memory. “One of them wants to get rid of me so badly that she sent me a job offer from Russia written in green ink on pink
“Come on, guys,” said Larry. “We’ve got to get to classes.”
They got up and moved out of the dining hall, leaving Brunoall alone, staring at the empty chairs.
* * *
“Look at this, Mildred,” chuckled the Headmaster over the breakfast table. “It’s the greatest cartoon I’ve ever seen!” In the middle of
The Macdonald Hall Free Press
was a drawing of a computer with evil eyes, sharp teeth and a menacing expression. Around its neck was a wide tie clearly marked
WizzleWare
. The tie acted as a leash, and was being held by a little man wearing a T-shirt that said
Call Me Wiz
. In the foreground was the Faculty Building of Macdonald Hall. The computer was spewing a dark cloud, which hung over it.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” said Mrs. Sturgeon. “It’s disrespectful and rude. The boys should be punished. It’s too bad you don’t know who is responsible.”
The Headmaster laughed. “Certainly I know. The cartoon — Talbot, of course. The boy certainly has talent. And this headline
Sanctity of Macdonald Hall Threatened
— that’s obviously Walton. I recognize his flair for the dramatic. This cautious one here is O’Neal — gets right to the point, he does. The intelligent one is Drimsdale, the one about ties inhibiting the intake of food is obviously Hackenschleimer, and there are assorted tidbits from Anderson, Wilson and Rampulsky.”
“They should be punished,” his wife repeated. “Poor Mr. Wizzle.”
“On the contrary, Mildred,” said Mr. Sturgeon seriously, “I think this newspaper is quite an accomplishment. That’s what education is about, after all — to encourage independent thought and self-expression.Our boys have every right to express their own opinions about how this school is run.”
“If they were complaining about
you
, you wouldn’t be so complacent,” accused Mrs. Sturgeon. “Poor Mr. Wizzle will be so upset!”
“If you had seen him dishing out demerits last night, you wouldn’t be quite so sympathetic. He’s antagonizing the boys and they’re not intending to take it lying down. I don’t blame them at all. Mildred, I’m in a very difficult position. I never liked Wizzle and I always considered him and his ideas a nuisance. But now things are serious. The boys aren’t happy here at Macdonald Hall anymore. And Wizzle is so angry over this newspaper that if anything else like it ever happens he’s liable to start talking about expulsion. And the Board just might go along with him. That certainly isn’t what we want at Macdonald Hall.”
“I can see your point,” his wife conceded. “Is there anything you can do privately to calm the boys down a little?”
“Mildred, be realistic. As Headmaster I have to support Board decisions, and Wizzle is a Board decision.” He smiled wryly. “And while I’m mentioning that the boys aren’t content, I guess I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit that I don’t like being a lame-duck Headmaster. I haven’t made an administrative decision yet this year. Wizzle does all that.”
“Oh dear. And the boys really don’t like Mr. Wizzle.”
Mr. Sturgeon sighed. “I’m afraid, Mildred, there are hard times ahead.”
* * *
“Miss Peabody,” said Miss Scrimmage timidly over tea in the Headmistress’s sitting room, “don’t you think you’re being alittle harsh with the girls? All those laps? And calisthenics again this morning?”
“Absolutely not,” replied Miss Peabody. “Those girls are much too soft. But just give me a little more time with them.” She produced Cathy’s letter and chuckled at the mere memory. “One of them wants to get rid of me so badly that she sent me a job offer from Russia written in green ink on pink
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