BEXHILL SCHOOL

This Nancy girl really is rather a drip. I caught her red-handed throwing a sweet wrapper out of her window. I went straight up to her room with my tawse and told her she was going to get three for littering and another three for her lack of civic responsibility. She'd burst into tears, pleading for me to give her a second chance, but of course I refused. I remember that when I had to spank her last term she made the most fearful fuss. It needed at least ten minutes to persuade her stay still long enough to give her six swats with the hairbrush: she kept leaping up, clutching her bottom and dancing around, howling her head off. Most undignified.

Now it has taken ages to get her to the point where she has pulled up her skirt, but as soon as I told her to drop her knickers and bend over, she was off again - blubbing her heart out and begging me not to thrash her.

This sort of behaviour is not what we expect from Bexhill girls. We require them to behave like proper young ladies, even in adversity. I mean, just the other day I had to give Arabella twelve with the Dragon when I found a bottle of wine in her room. She took it without a whimper and thanked me afterwards. Decent wine, too: vintage claret. Flinty, southern slope, I'd say. Full in the mouth, good nose, with a nutty finish. That's the sort of girl we want in this school.

Not this blubbering specimen in front of me now. Well, I've got all evening if necessary, but this young miss is going to end up with half a dozen red stripes across her backside, no matter how long it takes.

"For heaven's sake, brace up, Nancy. Or do you want me to fetch a cane?"

 

Photo from The Penitents