Mr. Sutherland drew a chair on the other side of the strawberry basket, and went to work—nobody could tell why—actuated by some whim, no doubt. After a little desultory conversation, Mr. Sutherland said, “I believe, dear Rosalie, that I owe this situation to your friendly remembrance, and I have been waiting some hours for an opportunity of expressing my thanks.” Rosalie’s face flushed to the temples. “I am deeply obliged and grateful to my fair patroness.” The blush deepened, crimsoning her face. She waved her hand deprecatingly, impatiently; she began—“Mr. Sutherland”—and stopped, as it were, choked. “Miss Vivian, are you so unwilling to receive my acknowledgments? Then must my gratitude be silent, but not the less deep.” Again she essayed to speak, and the words came vehemently, impetuously. “I had no agency in procuring this situation for you, Mr. Sutherland. How could you think for a moment that _I_, or any one else, could presume to ‘patronize’ _you_ in such a manner? How could you suppose, for an instant, that I, or any one else that knew you, could deem this position a fit and proper one for you? No! could I have dared to interfere, it would have been to prevent your coming here.” There was a tone of honest, earnest indignation in her voice, looks, and manner, that utterly astounded Mark Sutherland. Could it be that she thought him unworthy of the position? No; he dismissed that surmise at once, and answered, quietly, “I confess you surprise me, Rosalie! Is not the vocation of a teacher really honourable, if conventionally humble?” “It is greater, higher, more difficult, more responsible, than any other, except that of the preacher of the Gospel!” answered the girl, earnestly. “What is the matter, then—am I unfit for it?” “Yes, you are totally unfit for it.” “Why?” smiled Mark; “has my education been neglected?” “I know that you are a distinguished classical and mathematical scholar, Mr. Sutherland; and for any other branch of knowledge quite fitted to take a professor’s chair; but to be a teacher of youth requires other and rarer qualifications, which you have not.” “To wit?” inquired Mark, much amused with his young mentor. “First, then, you should have a natural vocation for teaching, and consequently the love of it, which you have not; a great deal of affection for children, which you have not; much patience, perseverance, firmness, social humility, some of which qualities you have, and others you have not.” “I am tempted to ask you to specify which I have and which I have not, but I will not.” “I thought you were going to open a glorious career for yourself, and achieve a great name.” “In what manner?” “I thought you were going to be a statesman.” “A _lawyer_, child.” “Why are you here, then, Mr. Sutherland? Why are you not a lawyer?”