Kathy, having more experience in worldly matters, peered over her glasses. "I'm afraid that it is more descriptive than anything. It likely refers to the art of caning one on the bottom."
We had both attended boarding school, but Miss Reade, who founded the school, would not have approved of such a barbaric punishment. Psychological torture, yes; physical abuse, no.
However, Kathy was soon proved correct. We reached the door and selected a card that read: "Victorian themed finishing school, teachers specialise in use of the English cane to ensure the highest of standards are maintained at all times."
"Oh my," I said.
"You can't be shocked."
"At the behavior? Not really. At the abominable punctuation? Absolutely."
As we explored the school, which, canes aside, reminded us of the Reade School and made us nostalgic for New Alba - momentarily, mind you - I began to suspect that the caning was not a punishment applied to students who were less than diligent about the curriculum; rather, it was the curriculum.
The dormitory provided another nostalgic glimpse into our school days: the "I'm so bored" look.
"What an odd place," I observed.
Kathy nodded, then cocked an ear. "Uh-oh. I think someone is coming up the front stairway. Quick! Let's escape down the rear stairs before we end up enrolled!"