e of the younger men, Mr.
Robbins was, being a student under your grandpa when he first knew
him. Now he is one of the professors with a big family and none too
well off, so his girl is coming to teach our school and Mr. Robbins
asked your grandpa if he wouldn't let her board at his house. She's
the eldest, but she hasn't been away from home much because she's
had to look after her younger brothers and sisters since her mother
died. Professor Robbins feels sort of anxious about her; he is
afraid of the wicked wiles of a big city like Greenville."

"Why, Mrs. Hunt, it isn't a big city, is it?" said Marian
innocently.

"Ain't it?" laughed Mrs. Hunt. "At all events he didn't want her
cast loose on it, and so he wrote to your grandpa, appealingly, I
should say, for it's fixed up that she is to come to the brick house
when the fall term begins and that's not far off."

"Oh!" Marian slipped down from the wooden chair upon which she had
seated herself, "I'd better go home and ask about it," she remarked.
"I'd much rather have some one beside grandpa teach me; he uses
such terribly long words and talks so long about things I don't
understand. Sometimes I can't make out whether I'm very stupid or
whether the lessons are extra hard."

"I guess you're no more stupid than the usual run of children," said
Mrs. Hunt stirring her pickles, "and I guess you will learn as much
about Miss Robbins and her affairs from me as you will at home. But
there, go 'long if you want to. Come in to-morrow; I'll be baking
cookies," she called after the child.

Marian answered with a nod as she looked back. Between the door and
the steps she halted once to open her hand and look for the mustard
seeds, but in her interest in Mrs. Hunt's news she had let them fall
to the floor and but one clung to her moist fingers. She tasted it
and found it strong and biting. "It can't be the bigness," she
murmured; "it must mean the hotness and strongness." This view of
the matter gave her a better understanding, according to her own
ideas, and she was glad she had tasted the small seed. After all,
there were pleasant things opening up. What if she could not move
mountains, there would be fresh cookies to-morrow and out of
somewhere a beautiful young lady was advancing toward her, not
exactly a playfellow, maybe, but some one much younger than
Grandpa and Grandma Otway.

_CHAPTER II_

_The School-Teacher_

The brick house had not the cheerful air o