t, an extraordinary gift of mental arithmetic, and would
rattle out the quotients of long compound division sums at alarming speed
and with a rapid clicking sound at the back of his throat, as though some
preternatural machinery were at work there. But most of all he conquered
by sheer love of his kind and of every living creature. The lad seemed to
brim over with love: he never arrived at forgiving anyone, being incapable
of believing that anyone meant to offend. From the first he yielded to
Hester a canine devotion which was inconvenient because it rendered him
dumb.

Within a week Hester felt sure of herself and of the school, and confided
her joy to Mr. Benny, who always met her at the ferry and accompanied her
home to tea; for she was now installed as a lodger with the Benny
household, greatly to Nuncey's delight. After tea Mr. Benny always
withdrew to a little office overhanging the tideway; a wooden, felt-roofed
shed in which he earned money from 6.30 to 8.30 p.m. by writing letters
for seamen. In this interval the two girls walked or bathed, returning in
time to put the children to bed and help Mrs. Benny with the supper.
They talked much, but seldom about the school--all the cares of which
Hester left behind her at the ferry crossing.

"And that's what I like about you," Nuncey confided. "You don't give
yourself airs like other schoolmistresses."

"How many others do you know?" asked Hester.

"None; but I know what I'm talkin' about. You know more about poetry and
such-like than Dad; I daresay you know as much as Uncle Josh; and yet no
one would think it, to look at you."

"Thank you." Hester dropped her a curtsey. "And who is Uncle Josh?"

"He's Dad's brother, and well known in London. I believe he writes for
the papers; 'connected with the press'--that's how Dad puts it.
When Dad writes a poem he hasn't time to polish it; so he sends it up to
Uncle Josh, and it comes back beautifully polished by return of post.
Now do you know what I want?" asked Nuncey, falling back and eyeing her.

"What?"

"Guess."

"Really I can't." Hester knew by this time that Nuncey's thoughts moved
without apparent connection.

"I want to see you out of mourning--well, in half-mourning, then.
It ought to be pale grey, and there's a lilac ribbon in Bonaday's shop at
this moment. You needn't pretend you don't care about these things, for
I know better."

After supper, and on their way to and from the ferry, Mr. B