The Letter of Credit. Warner Susan

Carpenter?"

      "Beautifully," said the silent, pale seamstress, never stopping her needle. "Better than I could have done it. Now you know, Rotha."

      Rotha stood considering, uneasy.

      "What is the next question?" said Mr. Digby smiling.

      "I was thinking – " said Rotha. "Mustn't one know a good deal, to do all that?"

      "To do what, for instance?"

      "To give everybody the respect that is due; it is not the same to everybody, is it?"

      "No, certainly."

      "How can one know?"

      "There is a good deal to be learned in this world, before one can hold the balance scales to weigh out to each one exactly what belongs to him," Mr. Digby admitted.

      "That is one of my troubles," said Mrs. Carpenter looking up. "I cannot give my child an education. I do a little at home; it is better than nothing; but I feel that my power grows less and less; and Rotha's needs are more and more."

      "What do you know, Rotha?" said Mr. Digby.

      "I don't know much of anything!" said the girl, an eloquent flush coming into her pale face. It touched him.

      "A little of what, then?" said their visiter kindly.

      "You would not say it was anything."

      "She knows a little history," Mrs. Carpenter put in.

      "Have you any acquaintance with Alexander of Macedon, Rotha?"

      "The Great? asked Rotha.

      "He is called so."

      "Yes, I know about him."

      "Think he deserved the title?"

      "Yes, I suppose he did."

      "What for?"

      "He was such a clever man."

      "Well, I have no doubt he was," Mr. Digby returned, keeping a perfectly grave face with some difficulty; "a clever man; but how did he shew it?"

      Rotha paused, and a faint tinge, of excitement this time, rose again in her cheeks, and her eye waked up with the mental stir. "He had such grand plans," she answered.

      "Ah? yes. Which do you mean?"

      "For civilizing people; for bringing the different nations to know each other and be friends with each other; so that trade could be carried on, and knowledge and arts and civilization could spread to all; that his empire could be one great whole."

      "On the whole you approve of Alexander. After all, what use was he to the world?"

      "Why a good deal," said Rotha. "Don't you think so? His successors carried on his plans; at least some of them did; and the Greek language was spread through Asia, and the Jews encouraged to settle in Egyptian and Greek cities; and so the way was prepared for the spread of the gospel when it came."

      "Mrs. Carpenter," said Mr. Digby, "your manner of teaching history is very satisfactory!"

      "I have done what I could," said the mother, "but we had very few books to work with."

      "We had none," said Rotha, "except Rollin's Ancient History, and Plutarch's Lives."

      "One good book, well used, is worth a hundred under other circumstances.

      Then you do not know much of modern history, Rotha?"

      "Nothing at all; except what mother has told me."

      "How about grammar?"

      "I have taught her grammar," said Mrs. Carpenter; "and geography. She knows both pretty well. But I found, with my work, I could not teach her arithmetic; and I had not a good book for it. Rotha can do nothing with numbers."

      Mr. Digby gave the girl a simple question in mental arithmetic; and then another, and another. Rotha's brow grew intent; the colour in her cheeks brightened; she was grappling, it was plain, with the difficulties suggested to her, wrestling with them, conquering them, with the sort of zeal which conquers all difficulties not insurmountable.

      "May I give Rotha lessons in Latin?" Mr. Digby asked, turning quietly to Rotha's mother.

      "Latin!" Mrs. Carpenter exclaimed, and her cheeks too flushed slightly.

      "I should enjoy it. It is likely that important business will bring me frequently into this part of the city; so I could do it as well as not."

      "But it would be so much trouble – unless you are fond of teaching – "

      "I am fond of teaching – when I find somebody that can learn."

      "You are very kind! – I should be very glad – Poor Rotha, I have been unable to do for her what I wished – "

      "I think you have done admirably, from the slight specimen I have had.

      How much time can she give to study?"

      "O she has time enough. She is much more idle than I like to have her."

      "Then that is arranged. I am going to send you a few raw oysters, Mrs. Carpenter; and I wish you would eat them at all times of day, whenever you feel like it. I knew a very slender lady once, who grew to very ample proportions by following such a regimen. Try what they will do for you."

      A grateful, silent look thanked him, and he took his departure. Rotha, who had been standing silent and cloudy, now burst forth.

      "Mother! – I do not want him to teach me!"

      "Why not, my child? I think he is very kind.'

      "Kind! I don't want to be taught out of kindness; and I don't wanthim to teach me, mother!"

      "What's the matter?" for Rotha was flushed and fierce.

      "I can learn without him. It is none of his business, whether I learn or not. And if I shouldn't say something just right, and he should find fault, I should be so angry I shouldn't know what to do!"

      "You talk as if you were angry now."

      "Well I am! Why did you say yes, mother?"

      "Would you have had me say no?"

      "Yes! I don't want to learn Latin anyhow. What's the use of my learning Latin? And of him, – O mother, mother!"

      And Rotha burst into impatient and impotent tears.

      "Why not of Mr. Digby?" said her mother soothingly.

      "O he is so – I can't tell! – he's so uppish."

      "He is not uppish at all. I am ashamed of you, Rotha."

      "Well, nothing puts him out. He is just always the same; and he thinks everything must be as he says. I don't like him to come here teaching me."

      "What folly is this? He is a gentleman, that's all. Do you dislike him for being a gentleman?"

      "I'm not a lady" – sobbed Rotha.

      "What has that to do with it?"

      "Mother, I wish I could be a lady!"

      "My child, Mr. Digby told you how."

      "No, he didn't. He told me what it was; he didn't tell me how I could get all that."

      "You can follow the Bible roles, at any rate, Rotha; and they go a good way."

      "No, I can't, mother. I could if I were a Christian, I suppose; but I am not I can't 'honour all men'; I don't know how; and I can't prefer others before myself I prefer myself But if I could, that wouldn't make me a lady."

      Mrs. Carpenter did not know what to do with this passion, the cause of which she was at a loss to understand. It was very real; Rotha sobbed; and her mother was at a loss how to comfort her. What dim, far-off recognition was this, of powers and possibilities in life – or in herself – of which the girl had hitherto no experience and no knowledge? It was quite just Mrs. Carpenter, herself refined and essentially lady-like, knew very well that her little girl was not growing up to be a lady; she had laid that off, along with several other subjects of care, as beyond her reach to deal with; but Rotha's appeal smote a tender spot in her heart,