and one there,—two or three pit lads, two or three girls, and two or three men for whose attendance he had worked so hard and waited so long that he was quite surprised at his success in the end. He scarcely knew how he had managed it, but the pupils were there in the dingy room of the National School, waiting for him on two nights in the week, upon which nights he gave them instruction on a plan of his own. He had thought the matter so little likely to succeed at first, that he had engaged in it as a private work, and did not even mention it until his friends discovered it by chance.
Said Jud Bates to Miss Barholm, during one of their confidential interviews:
"Did tha ivver go to a neet skoo?"
"No," said Anice.
Jud fondled Nib's ears patronizingly.
"I ha', an' I'm goin' again. So is Nib. He's getten one."
"Who?" for Jud had signified by a gesture that he was not the dog, but some indefinite person in the village.
"Th' little Parson."
"Say, Mr. Grace," suggested Anice. "It sounds better."
"Aye—Mester Grace—but ivverybody ca's him th' little Parson. He's getten a neet skoo i' th' town, an' he axed me to go, an' I went. I took Nib an' we larned our letters; leastways I larned mine, an' Nib he listened wi' his ears up, an' th' Par—Mester Grace laffed. He wur na vext at Nib comin'. He said 'let him coom, as he wur so owd-fashioned.'"
So Mr. Grace found himself informed upon, and was rather abashed at being confronted with his enterprise a few days after by Miss Barholm.
"I like it," said Anice. "Joan Lowrie learned to
