The Headmasters' Christmas
by Tasha


     'Good evening, Mr Squyres.'
     'Good evening, Mr Walker. Do come in.'
     The two headmasters shook hands warmly.
     'How are things at St Cuthbert's?' Squyres asked.
     'Fine, fine. And at Charnbury Hall?'
     'Excellent.' At last Squyres acknowledged the girl standing beside
Walker. 'So who is this young lady?'
     Walker eyed the girl sternly. 'Where are your manners, child?'
     The little blonde curtseyed. 'Nina Burton, sir,' she said.
     Squyres nodded, then looked at the dark-haired girl next to him.
     She lowered her eyes and curtseyed likewise. 'Alice Ferguson, sir.'
     Walker smiled. 'A pleasure.'
     'Shall we go inside?' asked Squyres.
     'Yes, let's do. Come along, girls.'
     The party reached the living room and the girls edged close to one
another for comfort.
     'What's your young Burton been up to?' Squyres asked pleasantly.
     'Her usual. Cheeky essays and disrespect to teachers. Made all the
worse by not being dealt with this past month.'
     Squyres chuckled. 'Yes, well, that will be remedied tonight.
Ferguson here doesn't have a list of offences - just one. She was caught
trying to abscond.'
     Walker shook his head. 'It reflects poorly on us, of course. The
community expects its reformatories to curb such tendencies. But when
they limit the discipline we can administer.'
     'Preaching to the choir, my friend,' Squyres said with a sigh. He
looked up at the two girls.
     They each took a step back as the men approached them.
     'So, little rebels,' Walker said. 'You must be wondering why you
haven't been punished all month.'
     Burton swallowed and her hand found Ferguson's. The would-be
runaway squeezed back.
     'This is our special tradition,' Squyres explained. 'We get
together every Christmas and bring the worst offender from our school.'
     'Then we treat the girls to the sort of discipline they used to be
subject to,' Walker finished.
     Both girls were white with fear.
     'But sir,' Burton ventured. 'The reformatory doesn't permit-'
     Squyres raised his eyebrows. 'You are not in the reformatory now.
And you can add "answering back" to the list of your offences.' He
turned to his friend. 'It is truly appalling how much discipline has
declined since the abolition of corporal punishment.'
     'Well, you can address her appalling behaviour shortly. I want to
get to know this one better. What's your story, Ferguson?'
     'I.'
     'Speak up, girl!'
     'I just. wanted to go home,' she offered feebly.
     'Tell him the full story, Ferguson, or you'll get double,' Squyres
warned.
     The girl shuddered. 'I pushed a guard down the stairs,' she
mumbled. 'But it was an accident! He was-'
     Walker shook his head disgustedly. 'That's enough, young lady.
We'll sort you out. I've just acquired a proper birch rod. I'm eager to
test its effectiveness.'
     Ferguson started to cry. Burton squeezed her hand weakly,
trembling.
     'This way, girls,' Squyres said, indicating the stairs. 'First door
on the left. Stand facing the wall, hands on your head.'
     Both men smiled as the girls trudged past them, sniffling.
     'Merry Christmas to you, Mr Squyres.'
     'And to you, Mr Walker.'



© 2004 SSC by Tasha