He awoke to new thoughts and to fresh exertion.  Action, action, was the business of the day; to get up the hill of learning, the present aim of life; and to that he bent himself.  Whether or not Winthrop fancied this opportunity might be a short one, it is certain he made the most of it.  Mr. Glanbally had for once his heart’s desire of a pupil.

It was a week or two before the walk was taken to Deerford and the books bought.  At the end of those weeks the waste afternoon fell out, and Mr. Glanbally got Winthrop a ride in a wagon for one half the way.  Deerford was quite a place; but to Winthrop its great attraction was —­ a Latin dictionary!  He found the right bookstore, and his dollar was duly exchanged for a second-hand Virgil, a good deal worn, and a dictionary, which had likewise seen its best days; and that was not saying much; for it was of very bad paper and in most miserable little type.  But it was a precious treasure to Winthrop.  His heart yearned after some Greek books, but his hand was stayed; there was nothing more in it.  He had only got the Virgil and dictionary by favour eking out his eight shillings, for the books were declared to be worth ten.  So he trudged off home again with his purchases under his arm, well content.  That Virgil and dictionary were a guide of the way for a good piece of the mountain.  Now to get up it.

He had got home and was turning the books over with Mr. Glanbally, just in the edge of the evening, when the door opened quick and a little female figure came in.  She came close up to the table with the air of one quite at home.

“Good evening, Mr. Glanbally —­ father told me to give you this letter.”

Winthrop looked at her, and Mr. Glanbally looked at the letter.  She was a slight little figure, a child, not more than thirteen or fourteen at the outside, perhaps not so much, but tall of her age.  A face not like those of the Asphodel children.  She did not once look towards him.

“Why I thought you were in Mannahatta, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Just going there —­ we have just come from Little River on our way.”

“This letter is for you, Winthrop,” said Mr. Glanbally, handing it over.  “And Mr. Haye was kind enough to bring it from Little River?”

“Yes sir —­ he said it was for somebody here.”

“And now you are going to Mannahatta?”

“Yes sir —­ to-morrow.  Good bye, Mr. Glanbally.”

“Are you alone, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Yes sir.”

“Where is Miss Cadwallader?”

“She’s at home.  I’ve just been down to see nurse.”

“But it’s too late for you,” said Mr. Glanbally, getting up, —­ “it’s too dark —­ it’s too late for you to go home alone.”

“O no sir, I’m not afraid.”

“Stop, I’ll go with you,” said Mr. Glanbally, —­ “but I’ve been riding till I’m as stiff as the tongs —­ Winthrop, are you too tired to walk home with this young lady? —­ as her father has brought you a letter you might do so much.”