‘Now, Phyl, do not let the pencil scream if you can help it.’
Claude found that Phyllis’s great difficulty was with the farthings. She could not understand the fractional figures, and only knew thus far, that ‘Emily said it never meant four.’
Claude began explaining, but his first attempt was far too scientific. Phyllis gave a desponding sigh, looking so mystified, that he began to believe that she was hopelessly dull, and to repent of having offered to help her; but at last, by means of dividing a card into four pieces, he succeeded in making her comprehend him, and her eyes grew bright with the pleasure of understanding.
Even then the difficulties were not conquered, her addition was very slow, and dividing by twelve and twenty seemed endless work; at length the last figure of the pounds was set down, the slate was compared with Adeline’s, and the sum pronounced to be right. Phyllis capered up to the kitten and tossed it up in the air in her joy, then coming slowly back to her brother, she said with a strange, awkward air, hanging down her head, ‘Claude, I’ll tell you what—’
‘Well, what?’ said Claude.
‘I should like to kiss you.’
Then away she bounded, clattered down stairs, and flew across the lawn to tell every one she met that Claude had helped her to do her sum, and that it was quite right.
‘Did you expect that it would be too hard for him, Phyl?’ said Jane, laughing.
‘No,’ said Phyllis, ‘but he said he could not do it as it was set.’
‘And whose fault was that?’ said Jane.