"Wait a minute," said Moore, hastening towards her, but she bid him good-bye, laughingly, and shut the door behind her as she stepped out.
Moore, ill pleased, returned to Farrell.
"Did you hear that?" he demanded.
Farrell admitted that he had, and flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from his ruffle.
"You have her arithmetic to comfort you," he suggested.
"It's little comfort I ever get out of such books," said Moore, laying the volume down on Bessie's desk. "Now tell me what ails you, Terence?"
"If I do," said Farrell, cautiously, "you 'll never repeat it to a soul?"
"Shall I cross my heart, lad?"
Farrell shook his head gravely.
"I'll leave that for Mistress Dyke to attend to," he answered.