Kinder going over the old books agin--jist to pass the time. Sorter
running in yer arter school hours and doin' a little practisin', eh? You
looking on me as an extry scholar--and I payin' ye as sich--but keepin'
it 'twixt ourselves, you know--just for a pastime, eh?"

As the master smilingly raised his head, he became suddenly and
ostentatiously attracted to the window.

"Them jay birds out there is mighty peart, coming right up to the
school-house! I reckon they think it sort o' restful too."

"But if you really mean it, couldn't you use these books, Uncle Ben?"
said the master cheerfully. "I dare say there's little difference--the
principle is the same, you know."

Uncle Ben's face, which had suddenly brightened, as suddenly fell. He
took the book from the master's hand without meeting his eyes, held it
at arm's length, turned it over and then laid it softly down upon the
desk as if it were some excessively fragile article. "Certingly," he
murmured, with assumed reflective ease. "Certingly. The principle's
all there." Nevertheless he was quite breathless and a few beads of
perspiration stood out upon his smooth, blank forehead.

"And as to writing, for instance," continued the master with increasing
heartiness as he took notice of these phenomena, "you know ANY copy-book
will do."

He handed his pen carelessly to Uncle Ben. The large hand that took it
timidly not only trembled but grasped it with such fatal and hopeless
unfamiliarity that the master was fain to walk to the window and observe