“I did not say so. I think the weakness of character that sits down and laments over a difficulty, instead of trying to overcome it, deserves no encouragement. But if Miss Heriton asks this as a favor to herself I will do it.”
This Florence would not do. Drawing the book toward her, she began to study it more determinately than ever.
Mr. Aylwinne watched her in silence for a few minutes, and then said:
“Will you accept nothing at my hands, Miss Heriton?”
“It is Walter, sir, who needs your help—not I.”
“So be it, then,” he said, with a half sigh. “I had no business to be so overofficious. Come here, youngster!”
With alacrity, Walter obeyed, and put the book into his guardian’s hand.
“Blockhead that you are!” was the comment. “Do you not see this, and this? Give me a piece of paper—now a pencil; no, I have one here in my pocket.”
Despite his grumbling at the boy’s stupidity, he patiently went over the proposition till the rejoiced lad had thoroughly mastered it.
“Now take yourself off to bed!” said Mr. Aylwinne, as he returned the book. “No, don’t thank me; I only came to your aid because I saw that you were boring Miss Heriton most unmercifully. She is too good-natured to you.”