He went off down the avenue, and Matilda stood looking after him. He was a young man; he was hardly what people call a handsome man; his figure had nothing imposing; but the child's heart went after him down the avenue. His face had so much of the strength and the sweetness and the beauty of goodness, that it attracted inevitably those who saw it; there was a look of self-poise and calm which as surely invited trust; truth and power were in the face, to such a degree that it is not wonderful a child's heart, or an older person's, for that matter, should be won and his confidence given even on a very short acquaintance. Matilda stood still in the street, following the teacher's receding figure with her eye.
"What are you looking at?" said Norton, now coming up.
"O Norton! didn't you like the school very much?"
"They're a queer set," said Norton. "They're a poor set, Pink! a miserable poor set."
"Well, what then? Don't you like the teacher?"
"He's well enough; but I don't like the company."
"They were very well behaved, Norton; quite as well as the children at Shadywalk."
"Shadywalk was Shadywalk," said Norton, "but here it is another thing. It won't do. Why Pink, I shouldn't wonder if some of them were street boys."
"I think some of those in the class were good, Norton; boys and girls too."
"Maybe so," said Norton; "but their clothes weren't. Faugh!"