silas

The TEA at the Wasperton School was nothing more than thick slices of bread and margarine and an ominous black mixture served in huge metal teapots. The food was so bad that the boys could hardly eat it, but they did not dare to complain, at least as long as they were under the gaze of their master, Mr. Silas Craishaw. Because his eyes were no less rigid than his cane, and not a day passed, but some...