"Are you not doing your best to teach me? And do you not find me an apt pupil?"
"On the contrary, you are uncommonly dull."
"My natural stupidity, doubtless. But then, you know, some people set up for being teachers who have no right to the name."
"In the present case the teacher's lessons are treated with contempt."
"The teacher expects his pupil to read before she has properly learned to spell; expects, too, to be paid for his services before he has earned his first quarter's salary."
Miriam's tongue had a readiness about it that Van Duren could not match, and in such encounters he was invariably worsted. He liked Miriam all the better in that she was ready of speech and quick of tongue. This bright, clever girl would be his own property before long, and it could not but redound to his credit that his wife should not only have the good looks which go so often without brains, but that she should be keen-witted into the bargain--a woman whom he could introduce to his friends with pride, and with the knowledge that they would envy him his new-found treasure.
Presently Mr. Van Duren's birthday came round, and nothing would satisfy him on this occasion but that he should drive Miriam and her father down to Greenwich, and that they should all dine together at the "Ship." As he wished, so it was agreed.
"It will be a good chance, Miriam dear, for getting out of him what we want to know," said the old man to his daughter when they were alone. "A good dinner, and a glass or two of champagne, will help to loosen his tongue and to keep his suspicions fast asleep. There could not be a better opportunity."
They drove to Greenwich in a close carriage, out of consideration for the delicate state of Mr. Byrne's health. But the old man freshened up wonderfully at the dinner-table, and proposed Mr. Van Duren's health in an eulogistic but somewhat rambling speech, he being evidently of opinion, once or twice, that quite a roomful of guests were listening to him. Miriam at last was obliged to force him gently down into his chair, and tempt him into silence with some grapes. When coffee was brought in he looked vacantly around.
"I feel just a little bit sleepy," he said "and if none of the company objects, I'll have forty winks in that pleasant-looking chair in the corner. But mind, if there's going to be any harmony, I'm your man, and 'Tom Bowling' 's the song that I'll sing."