on seemed to be struggling with an inarticulate gratitude and an
apparently inextricable buckskin purse in his pocket, he added quietly,
"I'll set you a few copies to commence with," and began to lay out a few
unfinished examples of Master Johnny Filgee's scholastic achievements.

"After thanking YOU, Mr. Ford," said Uncle Ben, faintly, "ef you'll jest
kinder signify, you know, what you consider a fair"--

Mr. Ford turned quickly and dexterously offered his hand to his
companion in such a manner that he was obliged to withdraw his own
from his pocket to grasp it in return. "You're very welcome," said the
master, "and as I can only permit this sort of thing gratuitously, you'd
better NOT let me know that you propose giving anything even to Rupert."
He shook Uncle Ben's perplexed hand again, briefly explained what he had
to do, and saying that he would now leave him alone a few minutes, he
took his hat and walked towards the door.

"Then you reckon," said Uncle Ben slowly, regarding the work before him,
"that I'd better jest chuck them Dobell fellers overboard?"

"I certainly should," responded the master with infinite gravity.

"And sorter waltz in fresh, like one them children?"

"Like a child," nodded the master as he left the porch.

A few moments later, as he was finishing his cigar in the clearing, he
paused to glance in at the school-room window. Uncle Ben, stripped of
his coat and waistcoat, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up on his powerful
arms, had evidently cast Dobell and all misleading extraneous aid aside,
and with the perspiration standing out on his foolish forehead, and his
perplexed face close to the master's desk, was painfully groping along
towards the light in the tottering and devious tracks of Master Johnny
Filgee, like a very child indeed!

CHAPTER II.

As the children were slowly straggling to their places the next morning,
the master waited for an opportunity to speak to Rupert. That beautiful
but scarcely amiable youth was, as usual, surrounded and impeded by a
group of his small female admirers, for whom, it is but just to add,
he had a supreme contempt. Possibly it was this healthy quality that
inclined the master towards him, and it was consequently with some
satisfaction that he overheard fragments of his openly disparaging
comments upon his worshippers.

"There!" to Clarinda Jones, "don't flop! And don't YOU," to Octavia
Dean, "go on breathing over my head like that. If the