“Not a doubt of it,” responded Hugh; for he remembered the boy asking him, across the table: “Isn’t our Mr. Lixom”—(the pastor)—“a oner?”
“And very eager and retentive,” said his father.
Hugh had seen the little glutton paint both cheeks to the eyes with damson tart, and render more than a quantity proportionate to the colouring, invisible.
“Yes, he is eager, and retentive, too, I daresay,” he said; “but much will depend on whether he has a turn for study.”
“Well, you will find that out to-morrow. I think you will be surprised, sir.”
“At what hour would you like me to come?”
“Stop, Mr. Appleditch,” interposed his wife. “You have said nothing yet about terms; and that is of some importance, considering the rent and taxes we pay.”
“Well, my love, what do you feel inclined to give?”
“How much do you charge a lesson, Mr. Sutherland? Only let me remind you, sir, that he is a very little boy, although stout, and that you cannot expect to put much Greek and Latin into him for some time yet. Besides, we want you to come every day, which ought to be considered in the rate of charge.”
“Of course it ought,” said Hugh.