“No,” he muttered, and hung his head.
He seemed so confused and ashamed, that Bayne came to his assistance. “The fact is, no workman likes to do a hand's-turn on Saturday afternoon. I think they would rather break Sunday than Saturday.”
“It is not that,” said Henry, in a low voice.
Grace heard him, but answered Mr. Bayne: “Oh dear, I wish I had known. I fear I have made an unreasonable request: for, of course, after working so hard all the week—but then why did you let me purchase the tools to carve with? Papa says they are very dear, Mr. Bayne. But that is what gentlemen always say if one buys anything that is really good. But of course they WILL be dear, if I am not to be taught how to use them.” She then looked in Mr. Bayne's face with an air of infantine simplicity: “Would Mr. Cheetham take them back, I wonder, under the circumstances?”
At this sly thrust, Bayne began to look anxious; but Henry relieved him the next moment by saying, in a sort of dogged way, “There, there; I'll come.” He added, after a pause, “I will give you six lessons, if you like.”
“I shall be so much obliged. When will you come, sir?”
“Next Saturday, at three o'clock.”
“I shall be sure to be at home, sir.”
She then said something polite about not disturbing him further, and vanished with an arch smile of pleasure and victory, that disclosed a row of exquisite white teeth, and haunted Henry Little for many a day after.
He told his mother what had happened, and showed so much mortified pride that she no longer dissuaded him from keeping his word. “Only pray don't tell her your name,” said she.