“You are not stupid, Dexter,” said Helen, smiling. “We must go back to the beginning, and try and find out how to do these things. Does not Mr Limpney explain them to you?”
“Yes,” said Dexter dismally, “but when he has done, I don’t seem to see what he means, and it does make me so miserable.”
“Poor boy!” said Helen gently. “There, you must not make your studies a trouble. They ought to be a great pleasure.”
“They would be if you taught me,” said Dexter eagerly. “I say, do ask Dr Grayson to send Mr Limpney away, and you help me. I will try so hard.”
“A pretty tutor I should make,” cried Helen, laughing. “Why, Dexter, I am as ignorant, you see, as you!”
Dexter’s face was a study. He seemed hurt and pleased at the same time, and his face was full of reproach as he said—
“Ignorant as me! Oh!”
“There, I’ll speak to papa about your lessons, and he will, I have no doubt, say a few words to Mr Limpney about trying to make your tasks easier, and explaining them a little more.”
“Will you!” cried the boy excitedly, and he caught her hands in his.
“Certainly I will, Dexter.”