of revenge on the press-gang, so vehement that it sadly
militated against her intention of trying to be good; all these
notions, and wonders, and fancies, were whirling about in Sylvia's
brain, and at one of their promptings she spoke,--

'How many miles away is t' Greenland seas?--I mean, how long do they
take to reach?'

'I don't know; ten days or a fortnight, or more, maybe. I'll ask.'

'Oh! feyther 'll tell me all about it. He's been there many a time.'

'I say, Sylvie! My aunt said I were to give you lessons this winter
i' writing and ciphering. I can begin to come up now, two evenings,
maybe, a week. T' shop closes early after November comes in.'

Sylvia did not like learning, and did not want him for her teacher;
so she answered in a dry little tone,--

'It'll use a deal o' candle-light; mother 'll not like that. I can't
see to spell wi'out a candle close at my elbow.'

'Niver mind about candles. I can bring up a candle wi' me, for I
should be burning one at Alice Rose's.'

So that excuse would not do. Sylvia beat her brains for another.

'Writing cramps my hand so, I can't do any sewing for a day after;
and feyther wants his shirts very bad.'

'But, Sylvia, I'll teach you geography, and ever such a vast o' fine
things about t' countries, on t' map.'

'Is t' Arctic seas down on t' map?' she asked, in a tone of greater
interest.

'Yes! Arctics, and tropics, and equator, and equinoctial line; we'll
take 'em turn and turn about; we'll do writing and ciphering one
night, and geography t' other.'

Philip spoke with pleasure at the prospect, but Sylvia relaxed into
indifference.

'I'm no scholard; it's like throwing away labour to teach me, I'm
such a dunce at my book. Now there's Betsy Corney, third girl, her
as is younger than Molly, she'd be a credit to you. There niver was
such a lass for pottering ower books.'

If Philip had had his wits about him, he would have pretended to
listen to this proposition of a change of pupils, and then possibly
Sylvia might have repented making it. But he was too much mortified
to be diplomatic.

'My aunt asked me to teach _you_ a bit, not any neighbour's lass.'

'Well! if I mun be taught, I mun; but I'd rayther be whipped and ha'
done with it,' was Sylvia's ungracious reply.

A moment afterwards, she repented of her little spirit of
unkindness, and thought that she should not like to die that night
without making friends. Sudden death was very present in her