Some good-natured brothers would have told the little girl not to mind, and sent her out to enjoy herself, but Claude respected Phyllis’s honesty too much to do so, and he said, ‘Well, Phyl, let me see the sum, and we will try if we cannot conquer it between us.’
Phyllis’s face cleared up in an instant, as she brought the slate to her brother.
‘What is this?’ said he; ‘I do not understand.’
‘Compound Addition,’ said Phyllis, ‘I did one with Emily yesterday, and this is the second.’
‘Oh! these are marks between the pounds, shillings, and pence,’ said Claude, ‘I took them for elevens; well, I do not wonder at your troubles, I could not do this sum as it is set.’
‘Could not you, indeed?’ cried Phyllis, quite delighted.
‘No, indeed,’ said Claude. ‘Suppose we set it again, more clearly; but how is this? When I was in the schoolroom we always had a sponge fastened to the slate.’
‘Yes,’ said Phyllis, ‘I had one before Eleanor went, but my string broke, and I lost it, and Emily always forgets to give me another. I will run and wash the slate in the nursery; but how shall we know what the sum is?’
‘Why, I suppose I may look at Ada’s slate, though you must not,’ said Claude, laughing to himself at poor little honest simplicity, as he applied himself to cut a new point to her very stumpy slate-pencil, and she scampered away, and returned in a moment with her clean slate.
‘Oh, how nice and fresh it all looks!’ said she as he set down the clear large figures. ‘I cannot think how you can do it so evenly.’