forty years. All the children in the village, and
nine-tenths of their parents for that matter, owed their education to her.
A little she could do, too, in navigation--as Mr. Rosewarne well knew:
enough to prepare a lad for schoolmaster Penrose across the water.
Mr. Penrose would rather teach two boys from her school than one from any
other parish. Surely--surely--the new Board wouldn't take the bread out
of an old woman's mouth and drive her to the workhouse? She didn't
believe, as some did, in this new-fangled education, and wouldn't pretend
to. Arithmetic up to practice-sums and good writing and spelling--
anything up to five syllables--were education enough to her mind for any
child that knew his station in life. The rest of it only bred Radicals.
Still, let her have a trial at least; let them decide to-morrow to give
her a chance; 'twould be no more than neighbourly. Her ways might be
old-fashioned; but she could learn. And with Mrs. Trevarthen to keep the
grand new schoolroom dusted--if they would give her the job--and look
after the fires and lighting."--

Rosewarne pretended to listen. The poor soul was inefficient, and he knew
it: beneath all her flow of speech ran an undercurrent of wrath against
the new learning and all its works. Poverty--sheer terror of a dwindling
cupboard and the workhouse to follow--drove her to plead with that which
she hated worse than the plague. He heard, and all the while his mind was
miles away from her petition; for some chance word or words let fall by
her had seemed for an instant to offer him a clue. Somewhere in the past
these words had made part of a phrase or sentence which, could he but find
it again, would resolve all this brooding trouble. He searched his
memory--in vain; the words drew together like dancers in a figure, and
then, on the edge of combining, fell apart and were lost.

Aloud he kept saying, "You mustn't count on it. Some provision will be
made for you, no doubt--in these days one must march with the times."
This was all the comfort she could win from him, and the poor old creature
gazed after him forlornly when at length he broke from her and went his
way up the hill.

He reached the entrance-gate. As it clashed behind him, two children at
play in the garden lifted their heads. The girl whispered to the boy,
and the pair stole away out of sight. From the porch the small greyhound
caught sight of him, and, bounding to him, fawned about his f