“I am sure, Dr Grayson, that no tutor could have taken more pains than I have to impart to him the various branches of a liberal education; but after all these months of teaching it really seems to me that we are further behind. He is not a dull boy.”
“Certainly not. By no means,” said the doctor.
“And I do not give him tasks beyond his powers.”
“I hope not, I am sure,” said the doctor.
“And yet not the slightest progress is made. There is only one explanation, sir, and that is want of diligence.”
“Dear me! dear me! dear me!” exclaimed the doctor. “Now, Dexter, what have you to say?”
“Nothing, sir!” said the boy sadly; “only I think sometimes that my brains must be too wet.”
“Good gracious! boy: what do you mean!”
“I mean too wet and slippery, sir, so that they will not hold what I put into them.”
The doctor looked at the tutor, and the tutor looked at the doctor, as if he considered that this was impertinence.