"Seventy-two pounds," said Helen. "A month? It 'ud be cheap at a hundred, lass; unless there's a whole crowd on ye as can teach everything. Can you sew?" "Sew!" she exclaimed. "I've given lessons in sewing for years. _And_ cookery. _And_ mathematics. I used to give evening lessons in mathematics at Longshaw secondary school." Great-stepuncle James gazed at her. It was useless for him to try to pretend to himself that he was not, secretly, struck all of a heap by the wonders of the living organism in front of him. He was. And this shows, though he was a wise man and an experienced, how ignorant he was of the world. But I do not think he was more ignorant of the world than most wise and experienced men are. He conceived Helen Rathbone as an extraordinary, an amazing creature. Nothing of the kind. There are simply thousands of agreeable and good girls who can accomplish herring-bone, omelettes, and simultaneous equations in a breath, as it were. They are all over the kingdom, and may be seen in the streets and lanes thereof about half-past eight in the morning and again about five o'clock in the evening. But the fact is not generally known. Only the stern and _blasé_ members of School Boards or Education Committees know it. And they are so used to marvels that they make nothing of them. However, James Ollerenshaw had no intention of striking his flag. "Mathematics!" he murmured. "I lay you can't tell me the interest on eighty-nine pounds for six months at four and a half per cent." Consols happened to be at eighty-nine that day. Her lips curled. "I'm really quite surprised you should encourage me to gamble," said she. "But I'll bet you a shilling I can. And I'll bet you one shilling against half-a-crown that I do it in my head, if you like. And if I lose I'll pay." She made a slight movement, and he noticed for the first time that she was carrying a small purse as black as her glove. He hesitated, and then he proved what a wise and experienced man he was. "No," he said, "I'll none bet ye, lass." He had struck his flag. It is painful to be compelled to reinforce the old masculine statement that women have no sense of honour. But have they? Helen clearly saw that he had hauled down his flag. Yet did she cease firing? Not a bit. She gave him a shattering broadside, well knowing that he had surrendered. Her disregard of the ethics of warfare was deplorable. "Two pounds and one half-penny--to the nearest farthing," said she, a faint blush crimsoning her cheek. Mr. Ollerenshaw glanced round at the bowling-green, where the captain in vain tried to catch his eye, and then at the groups of children playing on the lower terraces. "I make no doubt ye can play the piano?" he remarked, when he had recovered.