"Well, well, it comes to much the same thing," said Mr. Ferrand. "You are at liberty to remain this week, and then we will see. But one thing I must insist upon—that you shall have no intercourse whatever with Miss Ferrand. If you would give me your word to abandon those pursuits which you must be sensible are altogether unfitted for you, and to be guided by me in your reading, I might perhaps allow you to remain altogether." "I don't think I can do that, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda. "It has always been my greatest desire to get an education, so as to be able to teach, and I do not think I can give it up." "To teach!" repeated Mr. Ferrand. "Yes, sir. I am quite sure I could teach if I only had an education. I don't want to boast, but I know I have a talent for both music and mathematics, and I don't think it would be right for me to neglect them altogether, any more than it was right for me to try to cultivate them in wrong ways. It would have been wrong for the man in the parable to use dishonest means to increase his one talent, but that didn't make it right for him to bury it in the ground." Mr. Ferrand looked surprised, but not offended. "You really seem to have thought upon the subject," said he. "Sit down. I should like to converse with you farther on this subject." Never before had Mr. Ferrand asked a servant to sit down in that august apartment, But he was interested, as it were, in spite of himself. Rhoda took a seat. She was a very pretty and somewhat distinguished-looking girl, and always neat in her dress; and as she sat before him, her face full of animation and thought, Mr. Ferrand was surprised to find himself admiring her and wishing that Isa looked like her. "You say you think you can teach," he continued. "Why do you think so? You should be able to give a reason for your conviction." "I think so," answered Rhoda, "because I have always succeeded whenever I have tried." "Then you have tried?" "Yes, sir. I have taught two or three of the little ones at 'The Home' to read this last winter. Then there was a little girl in Boonville whom every one thought was not quite like other children—deficient in mind, or peculiar, at any rate. She did not learn to read, and her parents thought she never would, but the poor thing wanted to learn—" "Excuse me: wished or desired to learn would be the better expression," said Mr. Ferrand. "But go on. I am much interested in everything pertaining to education."