"No, I didn't. And I don't seem to know anything;" in a discouraged tone. "Oh, you will learn." It was warm in the afternoon. Two of the boys were decidedly bad and were punished. They positively roared. Cynthia spelled, and spelled, and studied--"One and one are two," "one and two are three," and after a while it dawned on her that it was just one more every time. Why, she had known that all the time, only it hadn't been put in a table. It grew very tiresome after a while. She asked if she couldn't have recess with the big girls, but was sharply refused. In truth the good dame grew very weary herself, and was glad when five o'clock came and she could go out in the garden and recruit her tired nerves. The stage was stopping at the door. Oh, how glad she was to see Cousin Leverett. He smiled down in the flushed face. "How did the school go?" he asked. She hung her head. "I don't like it. I have to be with the little class because I don't know tables, but I learned all the one times. That was easy enough when you came to see into it. But--nine and nine?" "Eighteen," he answered promptly. "And you answered it right offhand!" She gave a soft, cheerful laugh. "Oh, do you suppose I shall ever know so much?" "There was a time when I didn't know it." "Truly?" She looked incredulous. "Truly. And I had quite hard work remembering to spell correctly." "I studied two lines. This morning I missed two words, but this afternoon I knew them all. And I can't write on the slate. The pencil wabbles so, and then it gives an awful squeak that goes all over you. And I can't do sums. And there's all the tables to learn. And I don't like the teacher. I wish Miss Eunice could teach me. Or maybe Rachel might." "I might help you a little. But you read well?" "She said it was too--too"--she wrinkled up her forehead--"too affected, like a play-actor." "Nonsense!" he cried disapprovingly. "We will see about some other school presently. Would you like to take a walk with me? I'm tired of the long stage-ride." "Oh, so much!" She caught one hand in both of hers and gave a few skips of joy. "Let us go over to the river." Of course, he should have gone in and announced their resolve. But he was so used to considering only himself, and he realized that it must have been a tiresome day to her. They went over Lafayette Street, which was only a lane, and then turned up the stream.