Anthony John by Jerome K. Jerome

Mrs. Tetteridge was a pretty piquante lady. Her grey eyes no longer looked out upon the world with childish wonder. On the contrary they suggested that she now knew all about it, had found on closer inspection that there really was nothing to wonder about. A commonplace world with well-defined high-roads that one did well to follow, keeping one's eyes in front of one, suppressing all inclination towards alluring byways leading to waste lands and barren spaces.

Tetteridge's Preparatory and Commercial School had outgrown its beginnings. Mrs. Tetteridge had no objection to the "ambitious poor," provided they were willing and able to pay increased school fees and to dress their sons in conformity with the standards of respectability. But they no longer formed the chief support of the Rev. Doctor Tetteridge's Academy. The professional and commercial classes of Millsborough and its neighbourhood had discovered Mr. Tetteridge and were in the process of annexing him. Naturally they would prefer that he should get rid of the ragtail and the bobtail that had flocked round him on his first coming. The Rev. Dr. Tetteridge, interviewing parents, found himself in face of the problem that had troubled the elder Miss Warmington when, years ago, in the very same room, she had sat over against Mrs. Strong'nth'arm, while stealing side glances at a self-possessed young imp perched on a horsehair chair with one leg tucked underneath him.