THE FIRST BATTLE
For the first time in his life Lewisham faced the necessity of telling a lie in cold blood. He glissaded from the austere altitudes of his self-respect and his next words were already disingenuous.
"I won't promise to tell lies if I'm asked," he said aloud. "I can't do that."
"Scratch it out," said Blendershin to the clerk. "You needn't mention it. Then you don't say you can teach drawing."
"I can't," said Lewisham.
"You just give out the copies," said Blendershin, "and take care they don't see you draw, you know."
"But that's not teaching drawing———"
"It's what's understood by it in this country," said Blendershin. "Don't you go corrupting your mind with pedagogueries. They're the ruin of assistants. Put down drawing. Then there's shorthand———"
"Here, I say!" said Lewisham.
"There's shorthand, French, book-keeping, commercial geography, land measuring———"
"But I can't teach any of those things!"
"Look here," said Blendershin, and paused. "Has your wife or you a private income?"
"No," said Lewisham.
"Well?"
A pause of further moral descent, and a whack against an obstacle. "But they will find me out," said Lewisham.
Blendershin smiled. "It's not so much ability as willingness to teach, you know. And they won't find you out. The sort of schoolmaster we deal
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