“Be assured, Erling,” said Hilda, “that I know very little.”
“Enough for me, no doubt,” returned the youth.
“For a day or two, perhaps,” said the too-literal Hilda; “but after that Christian will have—”
“After that,” interrupted Erling, “it will be time enough to consider that subject.”
Hilda laughed, and asked if he were ready to begin. To which Erling replied that he was, and, sitting down opposite to his teacher, bent over the parchment, which for greater convenience she had spread out upon her knee.
“Well,” began Hilda, with a slight feeling of that pardonable self-importance which is natural to those who instruct others older than themselves, “that is the first letter.”
“Which?” asked Erling, gazing up in her face.
“That one there, with the long tail to it. Dost thou see it?”
“Yes,” replied the youth.
“How canst thou say so, Erling,” remonstrated Hilda, “when thou art looking all the time straight in my face!”