"Aint he a good teacher?"
"Firstrate—" said Joe, "taught me all I ever learned. I didn't go but four weeks, and Sam thought 'twarn't no use for me to hold on any longer. My! Cilly—he'd make you roll up your eyes in arithmetic!"
"Now Sam Deacon, what do you expect to do by all this fuss you're making?" said his sister judicially.
"What's the use of cross-examining a man at that rate?" said the Squire restlessly. "When I do anything, you'll know it."
"You'll make yourself a fool, one of these fine mornings; that's what I count upon," said Miss Cecilia. "He's a match for you, I have a presentiment, Sam."
"He won't be for you," said the Squire with some heat.
"There's Mr. Simlins goin' along," said Joe, who having finished his supper was gazing out of the window. "O my! if he was cut up into real simlinses, what a many there'd be!"
"You hush, Joe!" said his sister wrathfully. "He's comin' in."
And Mr. Simlins' tall figure did indeed come through the gate and up the walk, from which a very few more steps and minutes brought him to the tea table.
"Well, Mr. Simlins!" said Miss Cecilia as she gave him his cup,—"you've got back. I heard you were returned."