double frames of which the morning sun was throwing its mote-
flecked beams upon the floor of what seemed to me my intolerably
wearisome schoolroom--and working out a long algebraical equation
on the blackboard. In one hand I was holding a ragged, long-
suffering "Algebra" and in the other a small piece of chalk
which had already besmeared my hands, my face, and the elbows of
my jacket. Nicola, clad in an apron, and with his sleeves rolled
up, was picking out the putty from the window-frames with a pair
of nippers, and unfastening the screws. The window looked out
upon the little garden. At length his occupation and the noise
which he was making over it arrested my attention. At the moment
I was in a very cross, dissatisfied frame of mind, for nothing
seemed to be going right with me. I had made a mistake at the
very beginning of my algebra, and so should have to work it out
again; twice I had let the chalk drop. I was conscious that my
hands and face were whitened all over; the sponge had rolled away
into a corner; and the noise of Nicola's operations was fast
getting on my nerves. I had a feeling as though I wanted to fly
into a temper and grumble at some one, so I threw down chalk and
"Algebra" alike, and began to pace the room. Then suddenly I
remembered that to-day we were to go to confession, and that
therefore I must refrain from doing anything wrong. Next, with
equal suddenness I relapsed into an extraordinarily goodhumoured
frame of mind, and walked across to Nicola.

"Let me help you, Nicola," I said, trying to speak as pleasantly
as I possibly could. The idea that I was performing a meritorious
action in thus suppressing my ill-temper and offering to help him
increased my good-humour all the more.