"Come along to my study," said Hanbury. "No, no, I'm not going to execute you this time," as Pip looked a little apprehensive. Mr. Hanbury occupied two rooms in a corner of Mr. Mortimer's house, and thither Pip was conducted. "Now, young man, sit down in that armchair." Pip obeyed, and took his seat on the extreme edge. "You are a queer customer," said Mr. Hanbury meditatively. "You know ten times as much about that chapter as Marsh or Stokes or Fox, and yet you produced this. Look at it." It certainly was an interesting document. Pip, unable to grasp the main facts of the simple narrative set forth, had adopted the, to him, easier expedient of learning the chapter, or portions of it, by heart. The result was a curious framework of absolutely valueless but fairly correct quotations, and an utter absence of anything in the shape of coherent information. "_And the children of Israel did evil again in the sight of the Lord; and the Lord delivered them into the hands of the Philistines forty years._" "_And an angel appeared unto the woman and said...._" "_And the woman came to her husband and said...._" Here the manuscript came to an inky termination. "What are these blanks for?" inquired Ham. "I couldn't remember what they said, sir," explained Pip, "so I put blanks." "H'm; I see. It gives their remarks rather an expurgated appearance, though. But look here, old man," he continued, not unkindly, "one quarter of the labour that you spent on learning this stuff by heart--you have got the first verse quite correct, you see--would have enabled you, if rightly applied, to give the gist of the story in your own words, which was all I wanted. Now, wouldn't it?" Pip looked at him honestly. "No, sir," he said. "But, good gracious, when you read a novel--say Sherlock Holmes--do you find it easier to learn it by heart rather than gather the meaning as you go along?" "I have never read a novel, sir," said Pip. "Well, then, any book?" "I have never read any books, except the ones in school, sir." "I see I am dealing with a phenomenon," said Mr. Hanbury. "My poor friend, do you mean to say that your knowledge of books is bounded by Cæsar and Arabella Buckley? What did you do in your extreme youth? Didn't you ever read fairy tales? Haven't you heard of Cinderella or Jack the Giant-Killer?" "No, sir." "Why, your par--" Mr. Hanbury stopped. He remembered what Father William had told him, and he realised that home without a mother may indeed be a strange place. There was a pause. Pip, well back in his chair now, sat looking curiously at this large man, who appeared to be genuinely distressed by his ignorance of fairy tales. Presently the master continued,-- "Then you never read anything?" "Yes, the papers, sir." "Come, that's better. What part?" "All the cricket." "Are you a keen cricketer, then?" "I'm no good, sir, but I am keen."