“Your uncle and others do not like to be questioned. I am a schoolmaster. I delight in answering questions and communicating information. Put to me any queries you like, and as many as you like, and I will do my best to satisfy you.” “Why do some stars twinkle and others do not?” asked Kate at once. This difficulty had been troubling her mind ever since the night in the boat. “Planets do not twinkle.” “What are planets?” “Worlds on high. Stars that flash are suns that illumine worlds. They glitter with their own light; planets shine with borrowed, reflected light.” “The planets are worlds?” “Yes.” “Very tiny ones?” “Not at all. Some are far larger than our globe. They circle round our sun.” Kate looked the young man steadily in the face. The thought was too great, too awful, to be received at once. She supposed he was joking. But his countenance was an assurance to her that he spoke the truth. “Oh,” said she, with a long breath, “what it is to know!” “There is no higher pleasure.” “Nothing gives me greater joy than to learn.” “But did you not get taught such simple truths as this in school?” asked Bramber. “Mr. Puddicombe did not tell us much,” answered Kate. “We learned our letters and to cypher--nothing more.” “I am glad you can read,” said Bramber. “I can read, but I have no books. It is like having thirst and no water. I have learned how to walk, but may not use my feet. I am always like one who is hungry; I want to know about this, and about that, and I get no answer. Why are there tides? Why are some higher than others? What becomes of the stars by day?” “The matter of the tides is beyond you. The stars are in the sky still, but, owing to the blaze of the sun by day, you cannot discern their lesser glories. If, however, you were at the bottom of a well, you would be able, on looking up, to see the stars, pale, indeed, but distinctly visible, in the heavens.” “I should love to go down a well, and see that with my own eyes.” “I wish--oh, I wish you were coming to school!” Kate heaved a sigh. “But as you cannot come to me,” said Walter, “I shall have to come to you.” Kate shook her head. “That means sixpence a time in cockles and tea. It would ruin you.” “Well, I will lend you books.” “Mr. Fielding once did that, but Aunt Zerah was angry, and sent them back to the Rectory. She said that she did not want me to be a scholar, and have all kinds of book nonsense put into my head. I was to be a maid-of-all-work.” Bramber did not speak. He was very sorry for the girl, craving for knowledge, gasping for the very air in which her spirit could live--and denied it. Then he said, pointing to the board above the inn-door-- “Do you notice the tavern sign, Kitty?” “Yes--‘The Rising Sun.’” “Recently repainted and gilt. Now, I will repeat to you the lines I withheld the other day concerning the celandine; that is to say, such as I remember: