arithmetic, and throughout the morning there were few interruptions
further than the necessary disturbance caused by the changing of
places as one or another of us was distinguished for reward.



Chapter III. A Half Holiday.


You will have gathered from Andrew Drever's remark about the
fishhooks that he was something of a fisher. He was a fisher; but
he was also a naturalist, and he varied the hard duties of the
school by making frequent excursions across the hills in search of
objects for his favourite study. In addition to the maps and
diagrams that hung on the whitewashed walls of the schoolroom there
were many cases containing stuffed birds, such as guillemots,
terns, owls, and ouzels; and specimens of the small quadrupeds of
the locality, including a weasel and a fine pair of otters. All of
these specimens had been prepared and stuffed by himself, and upon
a side table by the window he kept a collection of curious stones
and old coins that he had found on his wanderings.

Andrew's heart was in both of his occupations. He loved his birds
and his curiosities, and I think he loved his pupils. Often, as he
sat on his high stool behind his desk, with a severity in his
features which his position seemed to demand, I have seen his brown
eyes soften as they looked round the circle of faces, and I have
known that he had some affection for each one of us. Out of school
hours he took great interest in our pursuits, giving to the girls
advice in the arrangement of colour in their needlework, and to the