After this, Jimmie thought proper to learn a little faster, and soon outstripped his teacher, who rewarded him with no word of approval save a cool “Thank you,” when the comfortable was done and taken from the awkward frames. And this was a fair specimen of the nature of the intercourse existing between Jimmie and Annie. Secure now in the belief that she would never be recognized as the “Pequot of New London,” Annie regarded Jimmie as any ordinary stranger, in whom she had no particular interest, save that which her kind heart prompted her to feel for all mankind. She could not dislike him, and she always defended him from the aspersions of the widow, who could not quite conquer her repugnance to a Rebel, and who frequently gave vent to her ill will toward Jimmie, whom she thought so proud. “Stuck-up critter!” she said, “struttin’ round as if he was good as anybody, and feelin’ above his betters. Of course he felt above her, and Susan, and Annie, she knew he did; and if she’s Annie she _vummed_ if she’d stay there, and be looked at as Jim looked at her.” Although making due allowance for the widow’s prejudice, these remarks were not without their effect upon Annie, who, imperceptibly to herself, began to feel that probably Jimmie did regard her as merely a poor dependent on his sister’s bounty, and she unconsciously assumed toward him a cool reserved manner, which led him to fancy that she entertained for him a deep-rooted prejudice on account of his past error. Twenty times a day he said to himself he did not care what she thought of him, and as many times a day he knew he did care much more than was at all conducive to his peace of mind. Where this caring might end he never stopped to consider. He only felt now that he respected the Quaker-like Annie more than he ever respected a woman before, and coveted her good opinion more earnestly than he ever remembered to have coveted anything in his life, unless, indeed, it were his freedom when a prisoner in Bill Baker’s power.