less and scentless nosegay, when Henry Sympson called to her as he came limping from the house.
"Shirley, Mr. Moore would be glad to see you in the school-room and to hear you read a little French, if you have no more urgent occupation."
The messenger delivered his commission very simply, as if it were a mere matter of course.
"Did Mr. Moore tell you to say that?"
"Certainly: why not? And now, do come, and let us once more be as we were at Sympson-grove. We used to have pleasant school-hours in those days."
Miss Keeldar, perhaps, thought that circumstances were changed since then; however, she made no remark, but after a little reflection quietly followed Henry.
Entering the school-room, she inclined her head with a decent obeisance, as had been her wont in former times; she removed her bonnet, and hung it up beside Henry's cap. Louis Moore sat at his desk, turning the leaves of a book, open before him, and marking passages with his pencil; he just moved, in acknowledgment of her curtsey, but did not rise.
"You proposed to read to me a few nights ago," said he. "I could not hear you then; my attention is now at your service. A little renewed practice in French may not be unprofitable: your accent, I have observed, begins to rust."
"What book shall I take?"
"Here are the posthumous works of St. Pièrre.
