"I wouldn't venture a great many remarks about my younger days, if I were you, _Mrs._ Grundy," said Sal, who had adhered to her resolution of always addressing her old enemy as _Mrs._, though she whispered it to Mary as her opinion that the woman didn't fancy her new title. Much as Mary had learned to prize Sally's friendship, before winter was over she had cause to value it still more highly. Wretched and destitute as the poor crazed creature now was, she showed plainly that at some period or other of her life, she had had rare advantages for education, which she now brought into use for Mary's benefit. When Mary first commenced attending school, Miss Grundy insisted that she should knit every evening, and thus she found no opportunity for studying at home. One evening when, as usual, a part of the family were assembled around a blazing fire in the kitchen, Sal Furbush suddenly exclaimed, "Mary, why don't you bring your books home at night, just as Mr. Bender does." She had conceived a great respect for Billy, and always called him _Mr._ Mary cast a rueful glance at the coarse sock, which certainly was not growing fast, and replied, "I should like to, but I have to knit all the time." "Fudge on your everlasting knitting," said Sal, snatching the sock from Mary's hands and making the needles fly nimbly. "I'm going to be very magnanimous, and every time you'll bring your books home I'll knit for you--I beg Mrs. Grundy, that you'll not throw the fire all over the floor," she added, as that lady gave the forestick a violent kick. "The Lord save us!" was Miss Grundy's exclamation when after supper the next evening she saw the three-legged stand loaded down with Billy's and Mary's school books. But as no one made her any reply, she quietly resumed her work, appropriating to her own use the only tallow candle there was burning, and leaving Billy and Mary to see as best they could by the firelight. For some time Mary pored over her lesson in Colburn, but coming to the question, "24 is 3/5 of how many times 10?" she stopped, unable to proceed farther. Again and again she read it over, without gathering a single idea, and was on the point of asking Billy to assist her, when Sal, who had been watching her, said, "Let me take your book, child." Mary did so, and then, as if conscious for the first time of Miss Grundy's monopoly of the candle, Sal seized a large newspaper lying near, and twisting it up, said, "Let there be light;" then thrusting one end of it into the flames and drawing it out again, added, "and there is light." After tumbling over the leaves awhile, she continued, "No, they didn't study this when I was young; but tell me what 'tis that troubles you." Mary pointed to the problem, and after looking at it attentively a moment, Sal said, "The answer to it is 4; and if you will give me some little inkling of the manner in which you are taught to explain them at school, perhaps I can tell you about that."