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Updated: June 2, 2025
She told Tom she should like to go to school to Mr. Stelling, as he did, and learn just the same things. She knew she could do Euclid, for she had looked into it again, and she saw what A B C meant; they were the names of the lines. "I'm sure you couldn't do it, now," said Tom; "and I'll just ask Mr. Stelling if you could." "I don't mind," said the little conceited minx, "I'll ask him myself."
When he knew how Maggie had come, and how eager she was to get home again, he hurried their departure, only whispering something to Mrs. Stelling, who had followed him, and who immediately left the room. Tom and Maggie were standing on the door-step, ready to set out, when Mrs.
Thus it came about that when Dennis and I went down to the stelling to meet Alister, as we had agreed, and delivered the messages of hospitality with which the young engineer and Dennis's cousin had charged us, we found that he had made an engagement to help the burnt-out store-owner for such time as we should be out of seamen's work, on terms which were to include his board and lodging.
Stelling took no note of these things; he only observed that Tom's faculties failed him before the abstractions hideously symbolized to him in the pages of the Eton Grammar, and that he was in a state bordering on idiocy with regard to the demonstration that two given triangles must be equal, though he could discern with great promptitude and certainty the fact that they were equal. Whence Mr.
Stelling, "not permanently; only for a little while." "Did he tell Tulliver so, sir, do you think?" "No; nothing was said to him on the subject." "Then may I go and tell him, sir?" "Yes, to be sure; now you mention it, I dare say he may be troubling about that. Go to his bedroom, but be very quiet at present."
Stelling came with a little basket, which she hung on Maggie's arm, saying: "Do remember to eat something on the way, dear." Maggie's heart went out toward this woman whom she had never liked, and she kissed her silently.
Stelling deferred the execution of many spirited projects, why he did not begin the editing of his Greek play, or any other work of scholarship, in his leisure hours, but, after turning the key of his private study with much resolution, sat down to one of Theodore Hook's novels.
"Oh, he always keeps in his upstairs study on Saturday afternoon," said Tom, who disliked anything sneaking, but was not disinclined to a little stratagem in a worthy cause. So he carried off the sword in triumph mixed with dread dread that he might encounter Mr. or Mrs. Stelling to his bedroom, where, after some consideration, he hid it in the closet behind some hanging clothes.
Stelling, a parson, down at King's Lorton, there, an uncommon clever fellow, I understand, as'll put him up to most things." There was a rustling demonstration of surprise in the company, such as you may have observed in a country congregation when they hear an allusion to their week-day affairs from the pulpit.
Tom, as I said, had never been so much like a girl in his life before, and at that epoch of irregular verbs his spirit was further depressed by a new means of mental development which had been thought of for him out of school hours. Mrs. Stelling had lately had her second baby, and as nothing could be more salutary for a boy than to feel himself useful, Mrs.
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