A friend of the headmaster

I picture a gentlemen’s club, somewhere in Pall Mall. The headmaster bumps into a contemporary, an old friend whose daughter now attends his school.

“All well with my girl, I hope?”

“Indeed: she’s doing well. Shame about the bit of bother earlier in the term. But I think she’s learnt her lesson.”

And, that night at home, the conversation in which an explanation was demanded: “It’s not merely that you were caned, but that you chose to mislead me…” Before the inevitable unbuckling of his belt.