bering her mercies of old. "Go on, young man," she commanded
Archelaus.

He plunged into figures again, nervously at first. Soon he recovered his
volubility, and, calling on one of the elder boys to name two rows of
figures for division, wrote them out and dashed down the quotient; then
flung in the working at top speed, showing how the quotient was obtained;
next rubbed out all but the original divisor and dividend, and, swinging
round upon the boys, raced them through the sum, his throat clicking as he
appealed from one boy to another, urging them to answer faster and faster
yet. "Yes, yes--but try to multiply in double figures--twice sixteen,
thirty-two: it's no harder than four times eight--the tables don't really
stop at twelve times. Now then--seventy-eight into three-twenty-six?
You--you--you--what's that, Sunny Pascoe? Four times? Right--how many
over? Fourteen. Now then, bring down the next figure, and that makes the
new dividend."

Mrs. Butson passed her hand over Hester's desk. "You keep 'em well
dusted," she observed, turning her back upon Archelaus and his
calculations. Her angry-looking eyes travelled over desks, floor, walls,
and the maps upon the walls, then back to the children.

"How many?" she asked.

"We have sixty-eight on the books."

"How many here to-day?"

"Sixty-six. There are two absent, with certificates. Would you like me
to call the roll?"

"No. You've got 'em in hand, too, I see." She picked up a copy-book from
the desk before her, examined it for a moment, and laid it down.
"You like this work?" she asked, turning her eyes suddenly upon Hester.

"How else could one do it at all?"

"I hate it--yes, hate it," the old woman went on. "Though 'twas my
living, I've hated it always. Yet I taught 'em well--you cross the ferry
and ask schoolmaster Penrose if I did not. I taught 'em well; but you
beat me--fair and square you do. Only there'll come a time--I warn you--
when the hope and pride'll die out of you, and you'll wake an' wonder how
to live out the day. I don't know much, but I know that time must come to
all teachers. They never can tell when 'tis coming. After some holiday,
belike, it catches 'em sudden. The new lot of children be no worse than
the last, but they get treated worse because the teacher's come to end of
tether. You take my advice and marry before that time comes."

"I don't think I shall ever marry."

"Oh yes, you will!" Aunt Butson's eye