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This book was to be sold "twenty-five as twenty- four," according to Wollaston's orders. I subscribed it thirteen as twelve. Wollaston was annoyed, as I could see, for I had to go over all my work again, but in accordance with his fixed principles, he was not out of temper.
"Poor reasoning!" he said to Mr. Watts; "very fallacious and superficial, too." "Ah!" replied Mr. Watts, considerably surprised that his new employee, just over from a new and uncultivated country, should handle a treatise like that so gingerly; "how is that? Rather a popular work, that of Wollaston's." "Popular enough it may be, but error is often popular.
She had foregone the college course she was prepared for and had taken over very skillfully the management of her father's household; even, in a surprisingly successful way, too, the motherly guidance of her two-years-younger brother, Rush. Miss Wollaston's testimony on these two points was unbiased as it was ungrudging. She had offered herself for that job and had not then been wanted.
Her brother's "Precisely" cut across that sentence with a snick like a pair of shears and left a little silence behind it. "I think she'll be along in a minute," he went on. "She always does come to breakfast. Why did you think she wouldn't to-day?" This was one of Miss Wollaston's minor crosses.
One sees, sometimes, one of his children gliding very innocently along toward the nearest way out with an effect of held breath that prompts investigation. In this sixty-year old child, upon whom the terror of John Wollaston's desperate illness lay more visibly than on any other member of the household, this look of gusto was especially striking.
"I told you how it would come out, if I asked her," cried the boy, still heaping the blame upon the girl. "I would enough sight rather marry you than my father, if I were the teacher," said Maria, and her blue eyes looked into Wollaston's with the boldness of absolute guilelessness. "Hush!" responded Wollaston, with a gesture of disdain. "Who'd want you? You're nothing but a girl, anyway."
On the islets of the little Madeira group there are many insects which are characterized as varieties in Mr. Wollaston's admirable work, but which it cannot be doubted would be ranked as distinct species by many entomologists. Even Ireland has a few animals, now generally regarded as varieties, but which have been ranked as species by some zoologists.
That last word was barely audible and the quality of the silence which followed it drew John Wollaston's gaze which had been straying over the lake, around to the speaker. She had been occupying her hands while she talked, collecting tiny twigs and acorn cups that happened to be within reach but now she was tensely still and paler than her wont, he thought.
The boy had not reached the age when he was capable of falling in love, but he had reached the age of adoration, and there was nothing in little Maria Edgham in her pink gingham, with her shy, sidelong glances, to excite it. She was only a girl, the other was a goddess. His worship of the teacher interfered with Wollaston's studies.
This is the first instance of loaning books for a price on record a practice that has become well-nigh universal since that day. He had not been at Palmer's long before he was employed in composing for the second edition of Wollaston's "Religion of Nature," which was just the kind of a treatise to arouse his intellect, and to set him to thinking and also to speculating.
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