"They ought to be nice," Tode explained, "the way I worked at 'em! It took me a week off and on, to make that K crook in and out, and up and down, as it ought to. Dora Hastings, she told me about 'em, and made the patterns. You don't know Dora Hastings, do you?"
"No, I never heard of her; but these are not patterns, they are copies; and there is no such word as ''em,' which you keep using so much. Our teachers told us so to-day."
"What's the reason there isn't?"
"Well, because there isn't; it's 'them' and not ''em' at all. And you use a great many words that they wouldn't allow you to if you went to school."
"Well then," said Tode, with unfailing good nature, "don't you let me say 'em then—no, I mean 'them.' You're the school misses, and I'm your school. Go on about the other things."
It was a busy evening. Arithmetic, except so much as had been required to count his small income, proved to be a sealed book to Tode; but the energy with which he began at the beginning, and tried to learn every word in it, was quite soothing to the heart of the young teacher.
The little mother sat at the end of the table, and sewed industriously on the clothes that she had washed and ironed during the day; but when a queer little old clock in the corner struck nine, she bit off her thread and fastened her needle on the yellow cushion, and interrupted the students.
"Now, deary, let's put away our work. You've made a first-rate beginning, but it's time now to read your piece of a chapter, and then we'll have a word of prayer and get to our beds, so we can all be up bright and early in the morning."
Tode closed his book promptly, and looked on with eager satisfaction while Winny produced an old worn, much-used Bible—a whole Bible! and composedly turned over its pages with the air of one who was quite accustomed to handle the wonderful book.
"Where shall I read to-night, mother?" she asked.