ork
which went on upon it. "Did you write all these?" he said to his mother,
touching with a finger a pile of letters. He was proud of the achievement,
without remembering that he had himself sat very forlorn all the morning,
in the light of the great bow windows, with his lesson books, and had
asked a great many questions, without more response than a smile and a
"Presently, dear," from the mother who was generally so ready to meet
and reply to every word he said. Geoff kept his place in the window, as
he had always done, and after Lady Markland had got through her morning's
work there would be an attempt at the lessons, which heretofore had been
the pleasant occupation of the whole morning,--a delightful dialogue,
in which the mind of the teacher was as much stimulated as that of the
pupil, since Geoff conducted his own education by means of a multitude
of questions, to which it was not always very easy to reply. Under the
new _regime_, however, this long process was not possible, and the lessons
had to be said in a summary manner which did not at all suit Geoff's way
of thinking. He did not complain, but he was puzzled, turning it over in
his mind with slow but progressive understanding. The big writing-table
seemed typical to Geoff. It threw a deep shadow behind it, making the
thick, light-coloured, much-worn carpet, on which he had trotted all his
life, dark and gloomy, like the robbers' cave he had often found so much
difficulty in inventing in the lightness of the room. He had a robbers'
cave to his desire now in the dark, dark hole between the two lines of
drawers; but it was dearly bought.

Geoff, however, without being as yet quite clear in his mind as to his
grievance, had instinctively taken what means were in his power to make
up for it. There was that robbers' cave, for one thing, which had many
dramatic possibilities. And he was a boy who took a great interest in
his fellow-creatures, and liked to listen to talk, especially when it was
of a personal character. He was delighted to be there, notwithstanding
the strange silence to which he was condemned, when Dickinson, the
bailiff, came in to make his report and to receive his orders. Geoff
took the greatest interest in Dickinson's long-winded stories about what
was wanted in the village, the cottages that were tumbling to pieces,
the things that must be done for the farmers. Lady Markland was at first
greatly amused and delighted to see how her boy entered