Sylvia might have repeated her ‘I’m very sorry’ at this announcement of Philip’s intentions; but she restrained herself, inwardly and fervently hoping that Molly would not urge the fulfilment of the specksioneer’s promise for to-morrow night, for Philip’s being there would spoil all; and besides, if she sate at the dresser at her lesson, and Kinraid at the table with her father, he might hear all, and find out what a dunce she was.

She need not have been afraid.  With the next night Hepburn came; and Kinraid did not.  After a few words to her mother, Philip produced the candles he had promised, and some books and a quill or two.

‘What for hast thou brought candles?’ asked Bell, in a half-affronted tone.

Hepburn smiled.

’Sylvia thought it would take a deal of candlelight, and was for making it into a reason not to learn.  I should ha’ used t’ candles if I’d stayed at home, so I just brought them wi’ me.’

‘Then thou may’st just take them back again,’ said Bell, shortly, blowing out that which he had lighted, and placing one of her own on the dresser instead.

Sylvia caught her mother’s look of displeasure, and it made her docile for the evening, although she owed her cousin a grudge for her enforced good behaviour.

‘Now, Sylvia, here’s a copy-book wi’ t’ Tower o’ London on it, and we’ll fill it wi’ as pretty writing as any in t’ North Riding.’

Sylvia sate quite still, unenlivened by this prospect.

’Here’s a pen as ‘ll nearly write of itsel’,’ continued Philip, still trying to coax her out her sullenness of manner.

Then he arranged her in the right position.

’Don’t lay your head down on your left arm, you’ll ne’er see to write straight.’

The attitude was changed, but not a word was spoken.  Philip began to grow angry at such determined dumbness.

‘Are you tired?’ asked he, with a strange mixture of crossness and tenderness.

‘Yes, very,’ was her reply.

‘But thou ought’st not to be tired,’ said Bell, who had not yet got over the offence to her hospitality; who, moreover, liked her nephew, and had, to boot, a great respect for the learning she had never acquired.

‘Mother!’ said Sylvia, bursting out, ’what’s the use on my writing “Abednego,” “Abednego,” “Abednego,” all down a page?  If I could see t’ use on ‘t, I’d ha’ axed father to send me t’ school; but I’m none wanting to have learning.’

‘It’s a fine thing, tho’, is learning.  My mother and my grandmother had it:  but th’ family came down i’ the world, and Philip’s mother and me, we had none of it; but I ha’ set my heart on thy having it, child.’

‘My fingers is stiff,’ pleaded Sylvia, holding up her little hand and shaking it.

‘Let us take a turn at spelling, then,’ said Philip.

‘What’s t’ use on’t?’ asked captious Sylvia.

‘Why, it helps one i’ reading an’ writing.’