ple apart,
and calls them by their right names.

On their way to the doctor's house the next day the vicar told Ambrose
that it was a great honour and advantage to have such a master as Dr
Budge.

"I hope you will always remember," he said, "that he is a great scholar
and a very wise man, and that it is extremely kind of him to be willing
to teach a little boy like you. It is out of friendship for me that he
does it, and I think I can trust you to do your best, and at any rate
not to give him more trouble than you need."

The word "trust" caught Ambrose's attention, and while his father went
on talking he began to make all sorts of resolutions in his own mind.
In this way he might show him what he could do, and regain his good
opinion. He saw himself working so hard, and learning so fast, that Dr
Budge would be struck with amazement. Nothing would be too difficult,
no lesson too long. By the time they reached the doctor's gate Ambrose
was master of the Latin tongue, and receiving praise and admiration from
all his relations.

But now he had to come back to reality and to face his new master, who
was a very solid fact, and he walked in by his father's side rather
soberly. Everything was quite new and strange, for he had never been
inside the cottage before.

They were shown straight into the study where the doctor sat at work.
It was a long low room with a window at each end, one of which looked
into the road and one into the little garden. The walls were lined with
shelves, but there was not nearly enough room in them for the books,
which had overflowed everywhere, on the table, on the chairs, on the
window-seat, and on the floor, where they stood in great piles on each
side of the doctor. He seemed to be quite built in with books as he sat
at his writing, and rose from among them with difficulty to greet his
visitors, stumbling as he advanced to shake hands.

Ambrose noticed with awe that he looked bigger indoors, and that his
head almost touched the low ceiling when he stood upright.

"This is Ambrose," said the vicar, "your future pupil."

Ambrose held out his hand, but the doctor took no notice of it. He put
one large finger under the boy's chin and turned his face upwards.

"Shall we make a scholar of you?" he asked in a deep voice.

Ambrose blinked helplessly up into the broad face so high above him, as
much dazzled and confused as though he had been trying to stare at the
sun.

His father la