and he looked awkwardly down at his ragged book and still more ragged
clothes. "Guess I ain't no time to l'arn that way," he muttered in
confusion.

"Nonsense!" said Hilda, decidedly. "There must be _some_ hour in the day
when you can be spared. I shall speak to Farmer Hartley about it. Don't
look at your clothes, you foolish boy," she continued, with a touch of
Queen Hildegardis' quality, yet with a kindly intonation which was new
to that potentate. "I am not going to teach your clothes. _You_ are not
your clothes!" cried Her Majesty, wondering at herself, and a little
flushed with her recent victory over the "minx." The boy's face
brightened again.

"That's so!" he said, joyously; "that's what Pink says. But I didn't
s'pose _you'd_ think so," he added, glancing bashfully at the delicate,
high-bred face, with its flashing eyes and imperial air.

"I _do_ think so!" said Hilda. "So that is settled, and we will have our
first lesson to-morrow. What would you--"

"Hilda! Hilda! where are you, dear?" called Dame Hartley's voice from
the other side of the currant-bush-hedge. And catching up her basket,
and bidding a hasty good-by to her new acquaintance and future scholar,
Hildegarde darted back through the bushes.

Zerubbabel Chirk looked after her a few moments, with kindling eyes and
open mouth of wonder and admiration.

"Wall!" he said finally, after a pause of silent meditation, "I swan! I
reelly do! I swan to man!" and fell to weeding again as if his life