"I think not, father," I answered. "Miss Cottrell was rather a worry; but we are beginning not to mind her peculiarities."
Father laughed.
"Poor thing!" he said. "What a pity she should try to pass herself off as other than she is! It is an attempt fore-doomed to failure. Do you know Emerson's words? 'Don't say things. What you are stands over you the while, and thunders so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary.' She does herself an injury, for she is really an excellent woman in many respects."
"Aunt says she is a capital nurse," I replied. "She was very helpful when Mr. Dicks was ill."
"What a man he is!" said father; "but a genuine one, I think. I wish I could have had a longer talk with Professor Faulkner. He is a fine man. Do you read much now, Nan?"
"You forget that books are forbidden me," I said, "though I must confess I do not pay much heed to Dr. Algar's prohibition when something good comes in my way. The difficulty is to get time for reading."
"If Dr. Algar could see you, I don't think he would be afraid of your reading," said my father. "Do you get any headaches now?"
"I have almost forgotten what a headache is like," I replied joyfully. "Even after I had worked out a mathematical problem which Jack Upsher could not master, my head did not ache."
"What, you presumed to beat Jack?" said father, smiling. "How did he stand that assumption of feminine superiority?"
"He was very grateful to me for helping him," I said. "Jack is not in the least ashamed of his feeble scholarship."