"The boy is headed down a disastrous path if you ask me. He is arrogant, rarely pays attention in class, and his cheek often pushes the limits of respect."
"Oh come now Alan," said Professor March as she rose from her chair to put on a kettle for tea. "You only dislike the boy because he's the most clever student you've ever had. Everyone else loves him."
"No good will ever come from pandering to that boy," said Professor Kettleburn emphatically. "Public favor will ruin that boy. The more the world loves him, the worse he becomes.
"He has a heart of gold," argued Professor March.
"Of course you'd be smitten with him," said Professor Blackwell, adding another spoonful of sugar to his coffee.
"Is your coffee sweet enough," she shot back.
"Not quite, it still has a bit of bite, rather like you. Perhaps a spoonful of sugar might do you some good," he said rising with an overflowing spoon.
What followed was a mad dash around the staff room, while Professor Kettleburn muttered about "blathering idiots, "arrogant schoolboys," and "adults acting like children."
The mad dance between Professor March and Professor Blackwell when the latter nearly knocked Professor Steinberg to the floor as she entered the room. She cursed as Professor Blackwell grabbed her, spilling sugar all down the front of her frock.
"Goodness gracious, Maggie, so sorry about that, didn't see you. Are you alright?"
Margaret Steinberg shot Professor Blackwell a look so icy that the temperature in the staff room might have dropped several degrees. Her arctic silence remained suspended over the room until Professor March's forgotten kettle began to howl.
"I'm sorry," Professor March gasped, as she ran to remove the kettle from the burner. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she offered, breathless.
"That would be very civilized of you," Professor Steinberg replied in clipped tones, as Professor Kettleburn snickered and raised his newspaper to read once again. Margaret Steinberg might once have been very beautiful, but there was no way to tell. She always wore her hair tightly coiled in some kind of bun or knot on the back of her head and her clothes looked like something from an era long past. Professor Steinberg had never been seen in pants, rather she always wore some variation of a heather gray skirt, with a plain dark down fastened at the collar. The only time she ever wore any sort of vibrant color was when she was attending sporting events and even then it was rare for her to wear anything more than a scarf. But the boys at Bolton knew she loved them, especially when they were doing well athletically.
"Oh come now Alan," said Professor March as she rose from her chair to put on a kettle for tea. "You only dislike the boy because he's the most clever student you've ever had. Everyone else loves him."
"No good will ever come from pandering to that boy," said Professor Kettleburn emphatically. "Public favor will ruin that boy. The more the world loves him, the worse he becomes.
"He has a heart of gold," argued Professor March.
"Of course you'd be smitten with him," said Professor Blackwell, adding another spoonful of sugar to his coffee.
"Is your coffee sweet enough," she shot back.
"Not quite, it still has a bit of bite, rather like you. Perhaps a spoonful of sugar might do you some good," he said rising with an overflowing spoon.
What followed was a mad dash around the staff room, while Professor Kettleburn muttered about "blathering idiots, "arrogant schoolboys," and "adults acting like children."
The mad dance between Professor March and Professor Blackwell when the latter nearly knocked Professor Steinberg to the floor as she entered the room. She cursed as Professor Blackwell grabbed her, spilling sugar all down the front of her frock.
"Goodness gracious, Maggie, so sorry about that, didn't see you. Are you alright?"
Margaret Steinberg shot Professor Blackwell a look so icy that the temperature in the staff room might have dropped several degrees. Her arctic silence remained suspended over the room until Professor March's forgotten kettle began to howl.
"I'm sorry," Professor March gasped, as she ran to remove the kettle from the burner. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she offered, breathless.
"That would be very civilized of you," Professor Steinberg replied in clipped tones, as Professor Kettleburn snickered and raised his newspaper to read once again. Margaret Steinberg might once have been very beautiful, but there was no way to tell. She always wore her hair tightly coiled in some kind of bun or knot on the back of her head and her clothes looked like something from an era long past. Professor Steinberg had never been seen in pants, rather she always wore some variation of a heather gray skirt, with a plain dark down fastened at the collar. The only time she ever wore any sort of vibrant color was when she was attending sporting events and even then it was rare for her to wear anything more than a scarf. But the boys at Bolton knew she loved them, especially when they were doing well athletically.
