wrong--"

"No," said I; decisively. "What books have you got through?"

"All you sent--Pilgrim's Progress, Robinson Crusoe, and the Arabian
Nights. That's fine, isn't it?" and his eyes sparkled.

"Any more?"

"Also the one you gave me at Christmas. I have read it a good deal."

I liked the tone of quiet reverence in which he spoke. I liked to hear
him own, nor be ashamed to own--that he read "a good deal" in that rare
book for a boy to read--the Bible.

But on this subject I did not ask him any more questions; indeed, it
seemed to me, and seems still, that no more were needed.

"And you can read quite easily now, John?"

"Pretty well, considering." Then, turning suddenly to me: "You read a
great deal, don't you? I overheard your father say you were very
clever. How much do you know?"

"Oh--nonsense!" But he pressed me, and I told him. The list was short
enough; I almost wished it were shorter when I saw John's face.

"For me--I can only just read, and I shall be fifteen directly!"

The accent of shame, despondency, even despair, went to my very heart.

"Don't mind," I said, laying my feeble, useless hand upon that which
guided me on so steady and so strong; "how could you have had time,
working as hard as you do?"

"But I ought to learn; I must learn."

"You shall. It's little I can teach; but, if you like, I'll teach you
all I know."

"O Phineas!" One flash of those bright, moist eyes, and he walked
hastily across the road. Thence he came back, in a minute or two,
armed with the tallest, straightest of briar-rose shoots.

"You like a rose-switch, don't you? I do. Nay, stop till I've cut off
the thorns." And he walked on beside me, working at it with his knife,
in silence.

I was silent, too, but I stole a glance at his mouth, as seen in
profile. I could almost always guess at his thoughts by that mouth, so
flexible, sensitive, and, at times, so infinitely sweet. It wore that
expression now. I was satisfied, for I knew the lad was happy.

We reached the Mythe. "David," I said (I had got into a habit of
calling him "David;" and now he had read a certain history in that Book
I supposed he had guessed why, for he liked the name), "I don't think I
can go any further up the hill."

"Oh! but you shall! I'll push behind; and when we come to the stile
I'll carry you. It's lovely on the top of the Mythe--look at the
sunset. You cannot have seen a sunset for ever so long."

No--tha