glad to see him stop rolling about, and raise himself on his dusty elbow to look at her.

“Well, come, what is it?”

“You must promise beforehand not to be angry.”

“Angry! When am I angry, pray? Come, tell me.”

“You must—you really must—I have a particular reason for saying so—you must learn how much four times seven is. Now, remember, you promised not to be angry.”

Hugh carried off his anger by balancing himself on his head, as if he meant to send his heels over, but that there was no room. From upside downs his voice was heard saying that he knew that as well as Agnes.

“Well, then, how much is it?”

“Twenty-eight, to be sure. Who does not know that?”

“Then pray do not call it fifty-six any more. Miss Harold—”

“There’s the thing,” said Hugh. “When Miss Harold is here, I can think of nothing but fifty-six. It seems to sound in my ears, as if somebody spoke it, ‘four times seven is fifty-six.’”

“You will make me get it by heart too, if you say it so often,” said Agnes. “You had better say ‘twenty-eight’ over to yourself all day long. You may say it to me as often as you like. I shall not get tired. Come, begin now—‘four times seven’—”

“I have had enough of that for to-day—tiresome stuff! Now, I shall go and play with Harry again.”

“But wait—just say that line once over, Hugh. I have a reason for wishing it. I have, indeed.”

“Mother has been telling Mr Tooke that I cannot say my multiplication-table! Now, that is too bad!” exclaimed Hugh. “And they will make me say it after dinner! What a shame!”

“Why Hugh! You know mamma does not like—you know mamma would not—you know mamma never does anything unkind. You should not say such things, Hugh.”

“Ay, there! You cannot say that she has not told Mr Tooke that I say my tables wrong.”

“Well—you know you always do say it wrong to her.”

“I will go somewhere. I will hide myself. I will run to the market while the cloth is laying. I will get away, and not come back till Mr Tooke is gone. I will never say my multiplication table to him!”

“Never?” said Agnes, with an odd smile and a sigh. “However, do not talk of running away, or hiding yourself. You will not have to say anything to Mr Tooke to-day.”

“How do you know?”

“I feel sure you will not. I do not believe Mr Tooke will talk to you, or to any of us. There you go! You will be in the water-butt in a minute, if you tumble so.”

“I don’t care if I am. Mr Tooke will not come there to hear me say my tables. Let me go!” he cried, struggling, for now Agnes had caught him by the ankle. “If I do tumble in, the water is not up to my chin, and it will be a cool hiding-place this hot day.”

“But there is Susan gone to lay the cloth; and you must be brushed; for you are all over dust. Come up, and I will brush you.”

Hugh was determined to have a little more dust first. He rolled once more the whole length of the leads, turned over Jane’s stool, and upset her work-basket, so that her thimble bounded off to a far corner, and the shirt-collar she was stitching fell over into the water-butt.

“There! What will Jane say?” cried Agnes, picking up the basket, and peeping over into the small part of the top of the water-butt which was not covered.

“There never was anything like boys for mischief,” said the maid Susan, who now appeared to pull Hugh in, and make him neat. Susan always found time, between laying the cloth and bringing up dinner, to smooth Hugh’s hair, and give a particular lock a particular turn on his forehead with a wet comb.

“Let that alone,” said Hugh, as Agnes peeped into the butt after the drowning collar. “I will have the top off this afternoon, and it will make good fishing for Harry and me.”

Agnes had to let the matter alone; for Hugh was so dusty that she had to brush one side of him while Susan did the other. Susan gave him some hard knocks while she assured him that he was not going to have Harry up on the leads to learn his tricks, or to be drowned. She hardly knew which of the two would be the worst for Harry. It was lucky for Hugh that Susan was wanted below directly, for she scolded him the whole time she was parting and smoothing his hair. When it was done, however, and the wet lock on his forehead took the right turn at once, she gave him a kiss in the very middle of it, and said she knew he would be a good boy before the gentleman from the country.

Hugh would not go in with Agnes, because he knew Mr Tooke would shake hands with her, and take notice of anyone who was with her. He waited in the passage till Susan carried in the fish, when he entered behind her, and slipped to the window till the party took their seats, when he hoped Mr Tooke would not observe who sat between Agnes and his father. But the very first thing his father did was to pull his head back by the hair behind, and ask him whether he had persuaded Mr Tooke to tell him all about the Crofton boys.

Hugh did not wish to make any answer; but his father said “Eh?” and he thought he must speak; so he said that Phil had told him all he wanted to know about the Crofton boys.

“Then you can get Mr Tooke to tell you about Phil, if you want nothing else,” said Mr Proctor.

Mr Tooke nodded and smiled; but Hugh began to hand plates with all his might, he was so afraid that the next thing would be a question how much four times seven was.

The dinner went on, however; and the fish was eaten, and the meat, and the pudding; and the dessert was on the table, without any one having even alluded to the multiplication-table. Before this time, Hugh had become quite at his ease, and had looked at Mr Tooke till he knew his face quite well.

Soon after dinner Mr Proctor was called away upon business; and Hugh slipped into his father’s arm-chair, and crossed one leg over the other knee, as he leaned back at his leisure, listening to Mr Tooke’s conversation with his mother about the sort of education that he considered most fit for some boys from India, who had only a certain time to devote to school-learning. In the course of this conversation some curious things dropped about the curiosity of children from India about some things very common here;—their wonder at snow and ice, their delight at being able to slide in the winter, and their curiosity about the harvest and gleaning, now approaching. Mr Proctor came back just as Mr Tooke was telling of the annual holiday of the boys at harvest-time, when they gleaned for the poor of the village. As Hugh had never seen a corn-field, he had no very clear idea of harvest and gleaning; and he wanted to hear all he could. When obliged to turn out of the arm-chair, he drew a stool between his mother and Mr Tooke: and presently he was leaning on his arms on the table, with his face close to Mr Tooke’s, as if swallowing the gentleman’s words as they fell. This was inconvenient; and his mother made him draw back his stool a good way. Though he could hear very well, Hugh did not like this, and he slipped off his stool, and came closer and closer.

“And did you say,” asked Mr Proctor, “that your youngest pupil is nine?”

“Just nine;—the age of my own boy. I could have wished to have none under ten, for the reason you know of. But—”

“I wish,” cried Hugh, thrusting himself in so that Mr Tooke saw the boy had a mind to sit on his knee,—“I wish you would take boys at eight and a quarter.”

“That is your age,” said Mr Tooke, smiling and making room between his knees.

“How did you know? Mother told you.”

“No; indeed she did not,—not exactly. My boy was eight and a quarter not very long ago; and he—”

“Did he like being in your school?”

“He always seemed very happy there, though he was so much the youngest. And they teased him sometimes for being the youngest. Now you know,