"You have been walking a long way," said the schoolmaster.
"A long way, sir," the child replied.
"You're a young traveller, my child," he said, laying his hand gently on her head.—"Your grandchild, friend?"
"Ay, sir," cried the old man, "and the stay and comfort of my life."
"Come in," said the schoolmaster. Then he led them into his little school-room, which was parlour and kitchen also, and told them that they were welcome to stay under his roof till morning. Before they had done thanking him, he spread a coarse white cloth upon the table, with knives and plates, and bringing out some bread and cold meat besought them to eat.
The child looked round the room as she took her seat. There were a couple of forms, notched and cut and inked all over; a small deal desk perched on four legs, at which no doubt the master sat; a few dog's-eared books upon a high shelf; and beside them a collection of peg-tops, balls, kites, fishing-lines, marbles, half-eaten apples, and other things taken from idle urchins. Hanging on hooks upon the wall were the cane and ruler; and near them, on a small shelf of its own, the dunce's cap, made of old newspapers. But the great ornaments of the wall were certain sentences fairly copied in good round text, and well-worked sums in simple addition and multiplication, which were pasted all round the room.
"Yes," said the old schoolmaster, following Nell's eyes with his own; "that's beautiful writing, my dear."
"Very, sir," replied the child modestly; "is it yours?"
"Mine!" he returned, taking out his spectacles and putting them on; "I couldn't write like that nowadays. No, they're all done by one hand; a little hand it is, not so old as yours, but a very clever one."
As the schoolmaster said this he saw that a small blot of ink had been thrown on one of the copies; so he took a penknife from his pocket, and going up to the wall carefully scraped it out.