It never came into Archie’s mind that young John Graham was “just trying him,” as boys say; and, in perfect simplicity and good faith, he gave an abstract of the chapter, with comments of his aunt’s, and some of his own upon it. It was not very clear or very complete, it is true; but it was enough to change considerably the expression of John’s face as he listened.
This was the beginning of a long conversation. John Graham had laid out for himself three hours of hard reading after his bracing tramp over the hills; but it was past noon when he went in to see Mrs Blair before he went away. He did not think the morning wasted; though in general, like all hard students, he was a miser respecting his time. When he was going away, he offered Archie any of his books, and said he would help him to understand them while he stayed at home.
“That won’t be long now, however,” he added. “But why don’t you go to school?”
“I should like to go to Dunmoor parish school with Davie; but my aunt thinks it’s too far.”
“Well, I think, after your scramble to Colla’s Head, and the ten good miles besides, that you walked the other day, you might be able to walk to Dunmoor school. It is not far, if you were only stronger.”
Oh, Archie was strong; quite strong enough for that, if only his aunt and Lilias thought so; and maybe they might, if John would speak to them about it.
And so it was arranged; and when John went back to college and the Gordon boys went home, Archie found himself at David Graham’s side, under the firm and not ungentle rule of the Dunmoor parish schoolmaster. Lilias’ joy was scarcely less than his own; and the delight of welcoming him home at night quite repaid her for his absence during the day.
As for her, she began again the business of teaching with wonderful cheerfulness, and went on with wonderful success. Mrs Blair’s office of schoolmistress was becoming hers only in name, she declared; for Lilias did all that was to be done, while she sat quietly in her armchair, knitting or sewing, only now and then administering a word of caution or reproof to the little ones about her. The children loved their young teacher dearly. Not one of them but would have travelled miles to do her a pleasure; and over two or three her influence for good was very easily seen.
When the summer and autumn work was fairly over, Elsie Ray came back again to the school; and Elsie was a very different girl now from the shy, awkward, ill-clad creature who had come there a stranger last year. Naturally affectionate, as well as bright, she had from the first attached herself to Lilias in a peculiar manner, and, to please her, she had done her utmost to overcome her faults and improve herself in every way. Her clothes, of her own making, were now as neat as they had been before untidy. Her leisure time during the summer’s herding had not been misemployed, and she was fast acquiring the reputation of being the best reader, writer, and sewer in the school; and no small pride did she feel in her acquirements. In short, as Mrs Stirling declared, “she had become a decent, purpose-like lass, and Lilias Elder should have the credit of it.” Of the last fact Elsie was as well persuaded as Nancy was; and her gratitude and devotion to Lilias were in proportion. No sacrifice would she have considered too great to give proof of her gratitude to Lilias; and her goodwill stood her friend in good stead before the winter was over.