Nothing was said about renewing the so soon interrupted lessons for several days, then Sara herself remarked half timidly,—
"I have begun my studies again, sir, it is so lonely, and there is so little to do at home," her voice faltering.
He gave her a pleased look.
"That is right; the best thing for you! Work, my child, is not a curse, but a blessing to sorrowful man. Study,—write too. I happen to know they are ready to accept another article from you in Science Made Popular; I am acquainted with its editor. Why don't you give him some more of your rambles?"
Her sad eyes brightened. After all, there was something within her which no grief, no bereavement, could entirely affect. "I will," she said; "I will pick myself up and begin over again."
"That's right. And try some walks here, Miss Olmstead; you'll find much of interest out on the old road leading west, for instance. You need more fresh air and exercise, I'm thinking."
Sara took his advice, with much benefit to her health, as well as gain to her information and purse; for she found that "knowledge is wealth" in more ways than one.
Morton had been such a good, helpful boy ever since their arrival in Dartmoor, that Sara was almost as glad as he when the professor's thought about the boat was finally unfolded, and proved to be a proposition that the lad should accompany him on a geological expedition down a certain river not far away.
He wanted Morton to help in managing the boat, as well as in foraging for extra game and provisions along the route, and watching the stores, while he studied, sought, and speculated over his stony treasures; for all of which the boy should receive a certain consideration in money, not to mention the fun.
"Just think, Sara, to be paid, actually paid, for having the biggest kind of a picnic," he cried rapturously. "Now, who cares for the Mary Jane?"