"Bring the book to me," said the teacher quietly; and the delinquent, a girl of about fourteen, slowly rose and, walking to him, placed a much-worn volume in his hands.
"Why," he said, glancing at the open page, "it is 'The Pilgrim's Progress.' No wonder you are interested. But you must not read it during school hours."
The child lifted to his face a pair of large blue eyes, beautiful with timid wistfulness, as she replied:
"I know I oughtn't, sir, but I wanted to see how they got out of Doubting Castle so bad."
He smiled. "I will give you the book after school; then you can read it at home."
"Oh, no," she whispered; "father won't let me read story-books."
"He surely would not object to this," answered the young teacher; "but I will keep it until recess to-morrow, and, never fear, Christian and Hopeful will outwit the giant yet."
The wistful eyes brightened, and, with a grateful smile, Rachel returned to her desk.
"First class in spelling, take your places," called the teacher.
Rachel belonged to this class, as did all the larger scholars, among whom was her brother, Thomas, two years her elder. The teacher had promised a prize at the end of the term to the member of the class obtaining the greatest number of head marks, and consequently a good deal of interest was taken in the lessons.