Page 28 of Once Upon a Midnight Dream

“As I mentioned in the interview, Miss Granger, my no-nonsense and stern approach to instruction and an occasional ruler across the knuckles for the worst-behaved students have served me well in my previous positions,” the prig said.

Badly done, you boastful bully.

“I rarely have had to resort to the rod to enforce acceptable conduct. I believe in the biblical principle of spare the rod and spoil the child,” He intoned with false piety.

The corners of Lilly’s eyes flexed, and if the idiot had not been tooting his own horn, he would have noticed her displeasure. “Actually, that phrase is from Hudibras, a 17th century poem by Samuel Butler. The biblical verse you have mistaken it for emphasizes the importance of loving parents disciplining their children, and the rod is symbolic of guidance or correction, rather than literal, corporal punishment.”

“Regretfully, you are mistaken, Miss Granger. For I also studied theology at university,” argued the dimwitted candidate. “As I am certain you are aware, such subjects are reserved for men’s superior intellect. It is understandable how you could have made such a mistake.”

Zander’s blood boiled at the thinly veiled insult.

The bloody, condescending, insolent jackanape.

Zander fisted his hands against the urge to rap his knuckles across the numbskull’s weak jaw.

Miss Granger merely raised an eyebrow.

She is too smart to argue with a feckless fool.

The chap thrust out his unimpressive chest and jutted his almost absent chin atop his extraordinarily long neck, skyward.

The effect triggered another memory.

A long-necked turtle.

Where in the blazes had Zander seen such a thing?

The same place he had seen a quokka?

He should share these recent recollections with Lilly, but as they only created more questions, rather than the answers they both wanted, Zander would wait.

“I assure you. No one has ever said that Balthazar Drumblewick does not enforce discipline, both inside and outside the classroom,” the boor bragged.

Zander stifled a snort.

Miss Granger fashioned what he recognized as her polite smile.

“Thank you, for coming, Mr. Drumblewick. I shall inform you once a decision has been made.”

“Erm. Yes, of course.” Drumblewick could not quite prevent his eyebrows from lashing together in disappointment.

Or…was that quickly masked look censure?

Zander narrowed his eyes.

Lilly’s slightly elevated eyebrows revealed she had seen through the pompous windbag.

“I shall look forward to hearing from you. I can start as early as next week.” Drumblewick bowed, and the shock of hair he had combed across his bald pate sprang loose from his pomade plastered head.

When he rose, the oily-waxy strand dangled near his ear like a hatchling snake.

To Miss Granger’s credit, she did not so much as blink in surprise. Instead, she opened the door and held it for the disgruntled man.

Plastering the offensive, greasy strand across his head again, he gave a curt nod and then took his leave.

After closing the door, Lilly leaned against the stout panel. Lifting her face, she closed her eyes, appearing almost fragile in the filtered light.

“God give me strength. Isn’t there a single qualified candidate who is not crack-brained?”