ot begun to speak it yet, though he
has made a vast progress in the French language. But it is Monsieur le
Gros's system to make his pupils thoroughly master of the language
before they attempt to converse in it. And his dancing, my dear madam--
Oh, it would do your heart good to see him dance. Such grace, such
elasticity, and such happiness in his manner!"

A pause--and then they exclaimed together, with a long-drawn sentimental
sigh, "And we both love him so."

"I am glad to hear so good an account of him," said the lady. "I hope,
Ralph, that you love Mr and Mrs Root, for they seem very kind to you."

"No, I don't."

Mr and Mrs Root lifted their hands imploringly to heaven. "Not love
me!" they both exclaimed together, with a tone of heartfelt surprise and
wounded sensibility, that would have gone far to have made the fortune
of a sentimental actor.

"Come here, sir, directly," said Mr Root. "Look me full in the face,
sir. You are a singular boy, yet I _did_ think you loved me. Don't be
frightened, Ralph, I would not give you _pain_ on any account; and you
know I never did. Now tell me, my dear boy," gradually softening from
the terrible to the tender, "tell me, my dear boy, why you fancy you do
not love me. You see, madam, that I encourage sincerity--and like, at
all times, the truth to be spoken out. Why don't you love me, Ralph
dear?" pinching my ear with a spiteful violence, that was meant for
gracious playfulness in the eyes of the lady, and an intelligible hint
for myself. I was silent.

"Come, Ralph, speak your mind freely. No one will do you any harm for
it, I am sure. Why don't you love Mr Root?" said the lady.

I was ashamed to speak of my floggings, and I looked upon his late
abandonment and negligence as kindness. I knew not what to say, yet I
knew I hated him most cordially. I stammered, and at last I brought out
this unfortunate sentence, "Because he has got such an ugly, nasty
voice."

Mr and Mrs Root burst out into a long and, for the time, apparently
uncontrollable laughter. When it had somewhat subsided, the
schoolmaster exclaimed, "There, madam, didn't I tell you he was a
singular lad? Come here, you little wag, I must give you a kiss for
your drollery." And the monster hauled me to him, and when his face was
close to mine, I saw a wolfish glare in his eyes, that made me fear that
he was going to bite my nose off. The lady did not at all participate
in the joviality; and