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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

They were alone in the breakfast-room.
"Why will you not, Arctura?" he asked reproachfully: "do you not
feel well?"
"I am quite well," she answered.
"It is such a lovely day!" he pleaded.
"I am not in the mood. There are other things in the world besides
riding, and I have been wasting my time--riding too much. I have
learnt next to nothing since Larkie came."
"Oh, bother! what have you to do with learning! Health is the first
thing."
"I don't think so--and learning is good for the health. Besides, I
would not be a mere animal for perfect health!"
"Let me help you then with your studies."
"Thank you," she answered, laughing a little, "but I have a good
master already! We, that is Davie and I, are reading Greek and
mathematics with Mr. Grant."
Forgue's face flushed.
"I ought to know as much of both as he does!" he said.
"Ought perhaps! But you know you do not."
"I know enough to be your tutor."
"Yes, but I know enough not to be your pupil!"
"What do you mean?"
"That you can't teach."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you do not love either Greek or mathematics, and no one who
does not love can teach."
"That is nonsense! If I don't love Greek enough to teach it, I love
you enough to teach you," said Forgue.
"You are my riding-master," said Arctura; "Mr. Grant is my master in
Greek."
Forgue strangled an imprecation on Mr.


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