“I’d rather not, Jimmy,” said he, looking at Jimmy’s fingers and thinking of the delicate paper, “but I’ll tell you all she said.”
He told so much about school and the work she had sent him that Jimmy’s slumbering ambition was aroused.
“I declare, Tom,” said he, “I haven’t studied a bit since I came; have you?”
“Yes,” replied Tom, “a good deal.”
“Are you up with your class?”
“Yes,” returned Tom.
“Oh dear! and I promised to study with you. I’ll begin this very night.”
And he did, and added thereby for a short time much to Tom’s happiness. For a while he gave his evenings pretty steadily, but at noon he was inexorable.
“No, sir,” he said—“noon is for rest.”
The next day Tom was very busy shelling corn for the planting. He had stationed himself on the doorstep of the barn, and as he shelled and the kernels fell from the cob, he thought of his two letters; and suddenly thinking of some task Miss Mason assigned him, and not being able distinctly to recall it, he took out her letter and laid it open near him, and tried to puzzle out the meaning of an example she had given him, continuing his work while he did so. As he was still thus engaged, the noon-bell struck, and throwing down his ear of corn, he drew a pencil and paper out of his pocket and proceeded carefully to write out the problem. So busy was he that he did not perceive that any one had come up until his master’s voice spoke.