At ten o’clock the little bell tinkled warningly, and Berry hastened to the sitting-room.
“Mollie has not come,” she announced.
“We will have to plan extra studies for pupils who are late or absent,” said Mr. Arnold.
“Oh, Father! You said that just like a real teacher,” said Berry. “Are we not going to wait for Mollie?”
“No, indeed! You and I will read a while,” replied Mr. Arnold, opening a book on the table.
Berry looked at him questioningly. “But reading isn’t lessons, Father! It’s just fun,” she said, a little note of reproach in her voice.
“Listen to this, and then, when I finish, repeat as much of it as you can remember,” responded Mr. Arnold smilingly.
“‘Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
Let them live upon their praises;
Long as there’s a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;
Long as there are violets,
They will have a place in story.
There’s a flower that shall be mine,
’Tis the modest celandine.’”
“Father! That’s not a lesson. I can say it all,” declared Berry, and indeed she could, so well had her memory been trained in this very way, repeat Wordsworth’s beautiful lines without a mistake. The lesson in algebra followed, and the morning hours of study ended without Mollie appearing.
“Probably she doesn’t want to come,” said Mr. Arnold.