That was only another simple equation, but in its novelty to Helen Grayson, as difficult as if it had been quadratic, and for a time no sound was heard but the busy scratching of two pens.
“It’s of no good,” said Dexter suddenly, and with a look of despair upon his face. “I’m so terribly stupid.”
“I’m afraid, Dexter,” said Helen merrily, “if you are stupid, I am too.”
“What! can’t you do it!”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Dexter. Algebra is beyond me.”
“Hooray!” cried the boy, leaping from his seat, and dancing round the room, ending by relieving his excitement by turning head over heels on the hearthrug.
“Is that to show your delight at my ignorance, Dexter?” said Helen, smiling.
“No,” he cried, colouring up, as he stood before her out of breath. “It was because I was glad, because I was not so stupid as I thought.”