"Ay, sir," cried the old man, "and the stay and comfort of my life." "Come in," said the schoolmaster. Then he led them into his little school-room, which was parlour and kitchen also, and told them that they were welcome to stay under his roof till morning. Before they had done thanking him, he spread a coarse white cloth upon the table, with knives and plates, and bringing out some bread and cold meat besought them to eat. The child looked round the room as she took her seat. There were a couple of forms, notched and cut and inked all over; a small deal desk perched on four legs, at which no doubt the master sat; a few dog’s-eared books upon a high shelf; and beside them a collection of peg-tops, balls, kites, fishing-lines, marbles, half-eaten apples, and other things taken from idle urchins. Hanging on hooks upon the wall were the cane and ruler; and near them, on a small shelf of its own, the dunce’s cap, made of old newspapers. But the great ornaments of the wall were certain sentences fairly copied in good round text, and well-worked sums in simple addition and multiplication, which were pasted all round the room. "Yes," said the old schoolmaster, following Nell’s eyes with his own; "that’s beautiful writing, my dear." "Very, sir," replied the child modestly; "is it yours?" "Mine!" he returned, taking out his spectacles and putting them on; "I couldn’t write like that nowadays. No, they’re all done by one hand; a little hand it is, not so old as yours, but a very clever one." As the schoolmaster said this he saw that a small blot of ink had been thrown on one of the copies; so he took a penknife from his pocket, and going up to the wall carefully scraped it out. "A little hand, indeed," said the poor schoolmaster. "Far beyond all his mates in his learning and his sports too, how did he ever come to be so fond of me? That I should love him is no wonder, but that he should love me!" And here the schoolmaster stopped, and took off his spectacles to wipe them, as though they had grown dim. "I hope there is nothing the matter, sir," said Nell anxiously. "Not much, my dear," said the schoolmaster. "I hoped to have seen him on the green to-night. But he’ll be there to-morrow." Then after a pause he turned to her, and speaking very gently, hoped she would say a prayer that night for a sick child. After a sound night’s rest the child rose early in the morning and went down to the room where she had supped last night. As the schoolmaster had already left his bed and gone out, she began herself to make the room neat and tidy, and had just finished when her kind host returned. He thanked her many times, and said that the old dame who did such work for him had gone out to nurse the little scholar of whom he had told her. The child asked how he was, and hoped he was better. "No," said the schoolmaster, shaking his head sorrowfully. "No better. They even say he is worse." "I am very sorry for that, sir," said the child.