Bee! I shall esteem it a great privilege to come."

"Prove it," laughed Bee, as she waved adieu, and tripped out of the
schoolroom.

Ishmael called up his pupil for recitation.

The little savage could not say his lesson, and began to weep and rub
his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

"You mought let me off this once, anyways," he sobbed.

"But why should I?" inquired Ishmael.

"A-cause of the pretty lady a-coming."

Ishmael laughed, and for a moment entertained the thought of admitting
this plea and letting the pleader go. But Ishmael was really too
conscientious to suffer himself to be lured aside from the strict line
of duty by any passing fancy or caprice; so he answered:

"Your plea is an ingenious one, Eddy; and since you have wit enough to
make it, you must have sense enough to learn your lesson. Come, now, let
us sit down and put our heads together, and try again, and see what we
can do."

And with the kindness for which he was ever noted, the young master sat
down beside his stupid pupil and patiently went over and over the lesson
with him, until he had succeeded in getting it into Eddy's thick head.

"There, now! now you know the difference between a common noun and a
proper one! are you not glad?" asked Ishmael, smiling.

"Yes; but they'll all be done supper, and the hominy'll be cold!" said
the boy sulkily.

"Oh, no, it will not. I know all about the boiling of hominy. They'll
keep the pot hanging over the fire until bed-time, so you can have yours
hot as soon as you get home. Off with you, now!" laughed Ishmael.

His hopeful pupil lost no time in obeying the order, but set off on a
run.

Ishmael arranged his books, closed up his schoolroom, and started to
walk home.

There he delighted Hannah with the news that her former friend and
patron, Mrs. Middleton, was soon expected at Rushy Shore. And he
interested both Reuben and Hannah with the description of beautiful
Bee's visit to the school.

"I wonder why he couldn't have fallen in love with her?" thought Hannah.

CHAPTER XLIX.

STILL ONWARD.

His, all the mighty movements
That urge the hero's breast,
The longings and the lovings,
The spirit's glad unrest,
That scorns excuse to tender,
Or fortune's favor ask,
That never will surrender
Whatever be the task!

--_M.F. Tupper_.

Beatrice did not come again to the schoolroom to see Ishmael. The memory
of old school-day friendship, as well as the