"Ernest Thornton!" called Mr. Parasyte, the principal of the Parkville Liberal Institute, in a tone so stern and severe that it was impossible to mistake his meaning, or not to understand that a tempest was brewing. "Ernest Thornton!"As that was my name, I replied to the summons by rising, and exhibiting my full length to all the boys assembled in the school-room-about one hundred in number."Ernest Thornton!" repeated Mr. Parasyte, not satisfied with the demonstration I had made."Sir!" I replied, in a round, full, square tone, which was intended to convince the principal that I was ready to "face the music.""Ernest Thornton, I am informed that you have been engaged in a fight," he continued, in a tone a little less sharp than that with which he had pronounced my name; and I had the vanity to believe that the square tone in which I had uttered the single word I had been called upon to speak had produced a salutary impression upon him."I haven't been engaged in any fight, sir," I replied, with all the dignity becoming a boy of fourteen."Sir! what do you mean by denying it?" added Mr. Parasyte, working himself up into a magnificent mood, which was intended to crush me by its very majesty-but it didn't.