"It seems he has never been at school, and cannot read or write. He is
very anxious to learn, and his father, before his death, was giving him
some lessons. We must see that he has every chance to learn while with
us."

"But, father, there's no school in the district this winter, a most
unusual thing."

"Why not teach him at home, dearie?" and the parson looked into his
daughter's face. "Why not have a school here? We can give him a start
anyway, and he will not be too far behind the rest when next the public
school opens."

"Oh, that will be splendid!" exclaimed Nellie, "and may I be the teacher?
I always wanted to do something in that line, and may we begin to-morrow?"

"Any time you like, dearie, and may God bless you, child, for your
interest in the boy. You remind me more and more of your dear mother."

"And why should I not take an interest in him, father? He saved my life,
and, though I can never repay him, I should like to feel that I am doing
something. You know I read to Nora whenever I can, but this need not
interfere with that. And, oh, father, Stephen was here this afternoon, and
he's in great trouble."

"What's wrong, dearie?" questioned the parson, as Nellie paused and a deep
flush suffused her face.

"The Frenelle homestead is to be sold."