"Now then, what next?"
"Carry one."
"What did I tell you was meant by carry one?"
"The tens," said Bessie, not in the least thinking "the tens" had
anything to do with the matter, but only that she had heard something
about them, and could thus get rid of the subject.
"Now, Bessie, what tens can you possibly mean? Think a little."
"I'm sure you said tens once," said injured innocence.
"That was in an addition sum. See, here it is quite different. I
told you."
Bessie put on a vacant stare. She was not going to attend to what
she did not like.
Miss Fosbrook saw the face. She absolutely shrank from provoking
another fit of crying, and went quickly through the explanation. She
saw that her words might as well have been spoken to the slate.
Bessie neither listened nor took them in. Not all her love for her
dear Christabel Angela could stir her up to make one effort contrary
to her inclinations. The slate was given back to her, she wiped out
the sum in a pet, and ran away.
Miss Fosbrook turned round, David, whose lessons had been perfectly
repeated an hour ago, was sitting cross-legged in the window, with
his slate and pencil, and a basket of bricks, his great delight,
which he was placing in rows.
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