_tasks_, to spin for her; and that she beat them if they did not spin as
much as she expected. The little girl's grandmother then said, that she
knew all this, but that she did not dare to complain, because the
schoolmistress was under the patronage of some of "the grandest ladies in
Edinburgh," and that, as she could not afford to pay for her little
lass's schooling, she was forced to have her taught as well as she could
_for nothing_.

Forester, fired with indignation at this history of injustice, resolved,
at all events, to stand forth immediately in the child's defence; but,
without staying to consider how the wrong could be redressed, he thought
only of the quickest, or, as he said, the most manly means of doing the
business: he declared, that if the little girl would show him the way to
the school, he would go that instant and speak to the woman in the midst
of all her scholars. Henry in vain represented that this would not he a
prudent mode of proceeding.

Forester disdained prudence, and, trusting securely to the power of his
own eloquence, he set out with the child, who seemed rather afraid to
come to open war with her tyrant. Henry was obliged to return home to his
father, who had usually business for him to do about this time. The
little girl had stayed at home on account of her grandmother's illness,
but all the other scholars were hard at work, spinning in a close room,
when Forester arrived.

He marched directly into the schoolroom. The wheels stopped at once on
his appearance, and the schoolmistress, a raw-boned, intrepid-looking
woman eyed him with amazement: he broke silence in the following words:--

"Vile woman, your injustice is come to light! How can you dare to