Accordingly Aleck was saddled and bridled and Mr. Wilmot was soon mounted and, with his subscription paper in his pocket, was riding off after subscribers. He was very successful; and when at night he turned his face homeward, he had the names of fifteen scholars and the partial promise of five more.

"Well, my boy, what luck?" said Mr. Middleton, as Wilmot entered the sitting room that evening.

"Very good success," returned Mr. Wilmot; "I am sure of fifteen scholars and have a promise for five more."

"Yes, pretty good," said Mr. Middleton; "fifteen sartin, and five unsartin. Who are the unsartin ones?-old Thornton's?"

Mr. Wilmot replied that he believed it was a Mr. Thornton who had hesitated about signing.

"He'll sign," said Mr. Middleton. "I's thar after you was, and he told me you might put down five for him. I pay for two on 'em. He lives on my premises; and if he doesn't pay up for t'other three, why, he'll jog, that's all."

Mr. Wilmot said he hoped no one would send to school against their wishes.

"Lord, no," rejoined Mr. Middleton; "old Thornton wants to send bad enough, only he's stingy like. Let me see your paper, boy."

Mr. Wilmot handed him the paper, and he went on: "Thar's ten scholars at eight dollars-that makes eighty; then thar's five at eleven dollars, and fifty-five and eighty makes a hundred and thirty-five; then thar's five more at fifteen dollars; five times fifteen; five times five is twenty-five-seventy-five dollars;-seventy-five and a hundred and thirty-five;-five and five is ten, one to seven is eight, eight and three is eleven-two hundred and ten dollars! Why, quite a heap! Of course you've got clothes enough to last a spell, so you can put two hundred out at interest. I'll take it and give you ten per cent."

Mr. Wilmot smiled at seeing his money so carefully disposed of before it was earned, but he merely said, "There's my board to be deducted."

"Your what?" asked Mr. Middleton.

"My board, sir. I have no other means of paying it. I find I can get boarded for a dollar and a half a week."

"The deuce you can," said Mr. Middleton. "Who'll board you for that?"

Mr. Wilmot gave the name of the gentleman, to which Mr. Middleton replied, "I want to know if he will board you so very cheap!"

"Why, yes. Do you think I should pay more?"

"Pay more!" replied Middleton. "Don't be a fool! Why, here's this infernal old sh.e.l.l of a house wants filling up, and thar's heaps of horses and n.i.g.g.e.rs lounging round with nothing to do; then I've plenty of potatoes, bacon and corn meal-and such fare as we have you're welcome to, without a dollar and a half, or even a cent and a half."

Mr. Wilmot remonstrated at receiving so much at Mr. Middleton's hands, but that good man put an end to all further argument by saying, "Do let me act as I like. You see, I've taken a liking to you, and because I see you trying to help yourself, I am willing to try and help you. They say, or Tempest says they say, I'm a rough old bear, and maybe I am; but I'm not all bad; it's a streak o' fat and a streak o' lean; and if I want to do you a kindness, pray let me."

So it was settled that Mr. Wilmot should remain in Mr. Middleton's family during the winter. To Julia this arrangement gave secret satisfaction. She had from the first liked Mr. Wilmot, and the idea of having him near her all the time was perfectly delightful. She resolved to gain his good opinion, cost what it would. To do this, she knew she must appear to be amiable, and that she determined to do-before him at least. She had also seen enough of him to know that he set a great value upon talent, and she resolved to surprise him with her superior scholarship and ability to learn. She, however, felt some misgivings lest f.a.n.n.y should rival her in his esteem; but she hoped by negro bribery and various little artifices to deter him from thinking too highly of her sister.

The following Monday, Mr. Wilmot repaired to his schoolroom, where he found a.s.sembled all his pupils. It was comparatively easy to arrange them into cla.s.ses and ere the close of the day the school was pretty generally organized. Weeks pa.s.sed on and each day the "Yankee schoolmaster" gained in the love of his scholars, and one of them, at least, gained in the affections of the teacher. Julia had adhered to her resolution of appearing amiable and of surprising Mr. Wilmot with her wonderful powers of learning. This last she did to perfection. No lesson was so long but it was readily learned and its substance admirably told in words of her own.

She preferred reciting alone and she so far outstripped the others in the length of her lessons, it seemed necessary that she should do so. Mr.

Wilmot often wondered at her marvelous capacity for learning so much in so short a s.p.a.ce of time, for she never took home her books at night, and she said she had plenty of time for her lessons during school hours.

With f.a.n.n.y it was just the reverse. She got her lessons at home and played all day at school! Sometimes a reprimand from Mr. Wilmot would bring the tears into her eyes and she would wonder why it was she could not behave and make Mr. Wilmot like her as well as he did Julia. Then she would resolve not to make any more faces at that b.o.o.by, Bill Jeffrey, for the girls to laugh at, nor to draw any more pictures on her slate of the Dame Sobriety, as she called Julia, and lastly, not to pin any more chalk rags on the boys' coats. But she was a dear lover of fun and her resolutions were soon for gotten. Her lessons, however, were generally well-learned, and well recited; but she could not compete with Julia, neither did she wish to. She often wondered how her sister could learn so long lessons, and, secretly, she had her own suspicions on the subject, but chose to keep them to herself.

Meantime the winter was pa.s.sing rapidly and, to Mr. Wilmot, very agreeably away. He liked his boarding place much and one of its inmates had almost, without his knowledge, wound herself strongly around his heart. For a time he struggled against it, for his first acquaintance with Julia had not left a very favorable impression on his mind. But since that night she had been perfectly pleasant before him and had given out but one demonstration of her pa.s.sionate temper.

This was one evening at the supper table. Zuba, a mulatto girl, brought in some preserves and, in pa.s.sing them, very carelessly spilled them upon Julia's new blue merino. In the anger of the moment Mr. Wilmot and his good opinion were forgotten. Springing up, she gave the girl a blow which sent her half across the room and caused her to drop the dish, which was broken in twenty pieces. At the same time she exclaimed in a loud, angry tone, "Devil take you, Zube!" The loss of the dish elicited a series of oaths from Mr. Middleton, who called his daughter such names as "lucifer match," "volcano," "powder mill," and so forth.

For her father's swearing Julia cared nothing, but it was the sorrowful, disappointed expression of Mr. Wilmot's face which cooled her down.

Particularly did she wish to recall what she had done when she saw that f.a.n.n.y also had received some of the preserves on her merino; but instead of raging like a fury, she arose and quietly wiped it off, and then burst into a loud laugh, which she afterward told her mother was occasioned by the mournful look which Mr. Wilmot's face a.s.sumed when he saw that Julia's temper was not dead, but merely covered up with ashes.

From this remark of f.a.n.n.y's the reader will understand that she was well aware of the part her sister was playing. And she was perfectly satisfied that it should be so, for by this means she occasionally got a pleasant word from Julia. She, however, often wished that Mr. Wilmot could be constantly with her sister, for his presence in the house did not prevent her from expending her wrath upon both f.a.n.n.y and the blacks.

For some days after the affair of the preserves, Mr. Wilmot was somewhat cool in his manner toward Julia, who had discernment enough to attribute the change to the right cause. Earnestly did she desire to win back his esteem, and she accordingly cast about for some method by which she could undo what she had done. She could think of no way except to acknowledge her error to Mr. Wilmot and promise to do better in the future. So one evening when her father, mother and f.a.n.n.y were absent, and she was alone with him, she adroitly led the conversation to the circ.u.mstance of her spoiled merino. She acknowledged that it was very unamiable and unladylike to manifest such pa.s.sionate feelings, said she knew she had a quick temper, but she tried hard to govern it; and if Mr. Wilmot would, as her teacher and friend, aid her by his advice and influence, she was sure she would in time succeed. So nicely did she manage each part of her confession that Mr. Wilmot was thoroughly deceived. He believed her perfectly sincere, and greatly admired what he thought to be her frank, confiding disposition.

From that time she was dearer to him than ever and Julia, again sure of his esteem, placed a double guard upon her temper, and in his presence was the very "pink" of amiability! Affairs were gliding smoothly on, when the family received a visit from a gentleman, whom Julia would rather not have seen. This was Mr. Miller, whom we have mentioned as having taught in that neighborhood the winter before. Mr. Wilmot found him in the sitting room one night, on his return from school. When the young men were introduced they regarded each other a moment in silence, then their hands were cordially extended, and the words, "Richard Wilmot," "Joseph Miller," were simultaneously uttered.

It seems that, years before, they had been roommates and warmly attached friends in the Academy of Canandaigua, New York, and now, after the lapse of ten years, they met for the first time far off in Kentucky. A long conversation followed, relative to what had occurred to each since the bright June morning when they parted with so much regret in the old academic halls of Canandaigua.

At length Mr. Miller said: "Richard, what has become of that sister of yours, of whose marvelous beauty you used to tell us boys such big stories?"

"My sister Kate," said Mr. Wilmot, "is at present at school in New Haven."

"And is she still as beautiful as you used to try to make us think she was?" asked Mr. Miller.

"I will show you her likeness," returned Wilmot, "and you can judge for yourself."

So saying, he drew from his pocket a richly cased daguerreotype, and handed it to Mr. Miller. It was a face of uncommon beauty which met Mr.

Miller's eye, and he gazed enraptured on the surpa.s.sing loveliness of the picture. At last he pa.s.sed it to f.a.n.n.y, who was eagerly waiting for it, and then turning to Wilmot, he said, "Yes, Richard, she has the handsomest face I ever saw."

"And the handsomest face I ever saw with one exception," said Mr. Wilmot, glancing admiringly toward Julia. Mr. Miller followed the direction of his eyes and as he saw the brilliant beauty of Julia, he sighed for fear his young friend might or had already become entangled in her dark meshes.

Just then f.a.n.n.y exclaimed, "Oh, how handsome; look mother-Julia, isn't she perfectly beautiful!" And then she added, "But, Mr. Wilmot, is she as good as she is beautiful?"

"How absurd," said Julia hastily; "just as though one cannot be handsome and good too."

"I didn't say they couldn't, sister," said f.a.n.n.y; "but I thought-yes, I'm sure she looks a little selfish!"

"Upon my word you're very polite," said Julia. "Mr. Wilmot will doubtless feel complimented by what you say of his sister."

"Never mind, f.a.n.n.y," said Mr. Wilmot; "never mind; you are more of a physiognomist than I thought you were, for Kate's great fault is being too selfish; but she will overcome that in time, I think."

"Oh, I am sure so," quickly rejoined f.a.n.n.y, regretting her words and anxious to do away with any unfavorable impression she might have made. So she went up to Mr. Wilmot and laying her hand on his shoulder, said, "I am sorry if I said anything bad of your sister. She is very beautiful and I think I should love her very much. Do you think she will ever come to Kentucky?"

"I hardly think she will," said Mr. Wilmot; "but I think you would like her, and I am sure she would love you. I often write to her about my two Kentucky sisters."

"Oh, do you," said f.a.n.n.y, clapping her white, dimpled hands, "do you really call us both sisters? And do you tell her how much handsomer Julia is than I am, and how much more she knows?"

"And how much more does she know?" said Mr. Miller, who was always interested in whatever f.a.n.n.y said.

"Oh, she knows a 'heap' more than I do," said f.a.n.n.y, "I fear I haven't improved much since you left, for Mr. Wilmot is so very indulgent that he never scolds when my lessons are but half-learned, but consoles himself, I suppose, with Julia's great long yarns."

"And are Julia's lessons so very long?" asked Mr. Miller.

"Yes, sir," replied f.a.n.n.y. "It is the wonder of all the girls how she manages to commit so much to memory in so short a time, for she never brings home her books and she spends two-thirds of her time, during school hours, in writing something on a sheet of foolscap. We girls have our own suspicions about that paper, for when her lesson is very hard we notice that she is unusually confined to her notes."

Here Julia angrily exclaimed, "f.a.n.n.y, what do you mean? Do you intend to insinuate that I write my lesson down and then read it?"

"Fire and fury," said Mr. Middleton, who had been an attentive listener, "what's all this about? Tempest, do you write down your task? Good reason why you don't bring home your books. Speak, girl, quick-are you guilty of such meanness?"

Julia burst into tears, and said: "No, father, I am not; and I think it too bad that I should be suspected of such a thing, when I am trying to do as well as I can."