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Updated: June 18, 2025
"I know it's something about squares, and ABC, and BAC, and CAB, and but you produce the lines." "But you do not produce them, sir," cried Mr Limpney angrily; "nor anything else! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir!" "I am," said Dexter innocently. "I'm a dreadfully stupid boy, sir, and I don't think I've got any brains." "Are you going through that forty-seventh problem this morning, sir?"
I should like to see you master them all." "Then I will. See if I don't," he cried. "That's right. Try and please Mr Limpney by being energetic." "Yes, I'll try," said Dexter; "but I don't think he'll be pleased." "I shall be. Now, get out your last lessons over which you failed so dismally, and I'll try and help you."
The result was that Mr Limpney allowed the littleness of his nature to come uppermost, and he laboriously explained the most insignificant portions of the lessons in a sarcastic manner which made Dexter writhe, for he was not slow to find that the tutor was treating him with contempt.
"Well, that's the way to learn them by heart," said the boy to himself thoughtfully, as with brow knit he seated himself by a table, took a sheet of paper, and began diligently to write in a fairly neat hand, making entry after entry; and the principal of these was "Bob Dimsted: not to talk to him." The next day the doctor had a chat with Mr Limpney respecting Dexter and his progress.
"Then I will try so hard, and I'll write down on pieces of paper all the things you don't want me to do, and carry 'em in my pockets, and take them out and look at them sometimes." "What!" cried Helen, laughing. "Well, that's what Mr Limpney told me to do, so that I should not forget the things he taught me. Look here!"
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