ooked very stern. He was naturally a good-hearted,
gentlemanly, and scholarly man. He thoroughly understood the subjects
he professed to teach. In fact, the ordinary routine of classic and
mathematical study had, by long practice, grown so simple to him, that
he was accustomed to look with astonishment upon a boy who stumbled over
some of the learned blocks.

In addition, year upon year of imparting knowledge to reckless and
ill-tempered as well as stupid boys had soured him, and, in consequence,
the well-intentioned words of the doctor did not fall on ground ready to
receive them quite as it should.

"Complaining about my way of teaching, I suppose," he said to himself.
"Well, we shall see."

The result was that Mr Limpney allowed the littleness of his nature to
come uppermost, and he laboriously explained the most insignificant
portions of the lessons in a sarcastic manner which made Dexter writhe,
for he was not slow to find that the tutor was treating him with
contempt.

To make matters worse, about that time Dan'l watched him more and more;
Peter was unwell and very snappish; there was a little difficulty with
Mrs Millett over some very strong camomile-tea which Dexter did not
take; and on account of a broken soap-dish which Maria took it into her
head Dexter meant to lay to her charge,--that young lady refused even to
answer the boy when he spoke; lastly, the doctor seemed to be remarkably
thoughtful and stern. Consequently Dexter began to mope in his den over
the old stable, and at times wished he was back at the Union Schools.

The wish was momentary, but it left its impression, and the thought
that, with the exception of Helen, no one liked him at the doctor's
house grew and grew and grew like the cloud that came out of the
fisherman's pot when Solomon's seal was removed, and that cloud
threatened to become the evil genii that was to overshadow the boy's
life.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

DEXTER WRITES A LETTER.

Dexter watched his chance one afternoon when the study was empty, and
stole in, looking very guilty.

Maria saw him going in, and went into the kitchen and told Mrs Millett.

"I don't care," she said, "you may say what you like, but it's in him."

"What's in him!" said the old housekeeper, raising her tortoise-shell
spectacles so as to get a good look at Maria, who seemed quite excited.

"Master may have tutors as is clergymen to teach him, and Miss Helen may
talk and try, but he's go