"I don't think I _am_ well, father," said Tom; "I wish you'd ask Mr.
Stelling not to let me do Euclid--it brings on the toothache, I think."

(The toothache was the only malady to which Tom had ever been subject.)

"Euclid, my lad; why, what's that?" said Mr. Tulliver.

"Oh, I don't know. It's definitions, and axioms, and triangles, and
things. It's a book I've got to learn in; there's no sense in it."

"Go, go!" said Mr. Tulliver, reprovingly, "you mustn't say so. You must
learn what your master tells you. He knows what it's right for you to
learn."

"_I'll_ help you now, Tom," said Maggie, with a little air of
patronizing consolation. "I'm come to stay ever so long, if Mrs.
Stelling asks me. I've brought my box and my pinafores, haven't I,
father?"

"_You_ help me, you silly little thing!" said Tom, in such high spirits
at this announcement that he quite enjoyed the idea of confounding
Maggie by showing her a page of Euclid. "I should like to see you doing
one of _my_ lessons! Why, I learn Latin too! Girls never learn such
things. They're too silly."

"I know what Latin is very well," said Maggie, confidently. "Latin's a
language. There are Latin words in the Dictionary. There's 'bonus, a
gift.'"

"Now, you're just wrong there, Miss Maggie!" said Tom, secretly