"Decline the noun!"
Mr Patton, the master at the front of the classroom, raised his left arm and pointed with his cane at the chart he had chalked on the blackboard. As one, the boys in the classroom began to chant, each word punctuated by the tapping of rattan on wood. "Mensa, mensa, mensam, mensae, mensae, mensae, mensas."
"Very good." Mr Patton swept the tattered hem of gown behind him, then walked to the other side of the blackboard. "Now the plural."
"Mensae, mensae, mensas, mensarum ... ." The effect was hypnotic - the boys' voices droning in unison, reciting the words in front of them.
"Good. Now back to the singular."
Edward Jones (Jones Minor to the teachers, but Eddie or Jonesy to the other boys) felt his throat tighten. Instinctively he stopped.
"Jones Minor!" The master's voice cut through the recitation. All eyes turned towards Edward. "Why have you stopped?"
Edward stop up and swallowed. "I'm sorry, sir. I just needed to clear my throat."
"Really?" Mr Patton glared at him, tapping his cane against the fabric of his trousers. "Well, you can clear your throat on your own time! Not when I am imparting the wisdom of the ancients. Understand?"
Edward nodded. It seemed to loosen the restriction in his throat. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sit. It won't happen again."
"See it doesn't." The master shook the chalk dust from his shoulders and tapped the blackboard with his cane. "Once more, gentlemen."
"Mensa, mensa ... ."
As Edward spoke, his throat tightened again. He wanted to stop, but he knew that he would be risking Mr Patton's anger. Edward tried to keep going; however, instead of words, he emitted a sharp, breathy squeak.
The other boys stopped, giggling at the interruption.
"Who did that?" The master's eyes swept the room for the guilty party. "Who is responsible for this tomfoolery?" His glare fell on Edward's blushing face. "Jones Minor?"
Once again, Edward sprung to his feet. "I didn't mean," he began, but his voice betrayed him, rising more than an octave above his normal register. Again, the other boys in the classroom giggled.
Mr Patton stared at Edward. "Well, let's see if you find this funny." He strode down the row of desks to where Edward was standing. "Hand!" Obediently, Edward held out his right hand. With a single, swift movement, the master brought his cane down onto the outstretched palm. Edward screwed up his eyes and bit his lip to help him through the stinging pain.
"Now - once more!" Mr Patton took his place at the front of the classroom and tapped the blackboard.
"Mensa, mensa, mensam ... ."
