Already, though his father had been dead only a week, Stephen began
to miscall many of the harder words; but his hearers were not critical,
and the performance gave unbounded satisfaction.
'That beats me!' cried Tim. 'What a headpiece thee must have, Stephen!
But what does it all mean, lad? Is it all English like?'
'How can I know?' answered Stephen, somewhat sadly; 'there's nobody to
learn me now; and it's very hard. There's the Pharisees, Tim, and Raca; I
don't know who they are.'
The conversation was stopped by Martha suddenly starting bolt upright,
and dropping two or three hurried curtseys. The boys looked up from their
book quickly, and saw a young lady passing through the wicket and coming
up the garden walk, with a smile upon her pleasant face as she met their
gaze.
'My boys,' she said, in a soft, kindly voice, 'I've been sitting on the
bank yonder, behind your cottage; and I heard one of you reading a
chapter in the Bible. Which of you was it?'
'It was him,' cried Tim and Martha together, pointing at Stephen.
'And you said you had no one to teach you,' continued the lady. 'Now
would you learn well, if I promised to teach you?'
Stephen looked up speechlessly into the smiling face before him.
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