You and she and that little Barlow boy ought to try for a prize, as the poets did in Athens.

I'll tell you all about it some time.
Now, you peg away at your hymn." Cheered by Thorny's commendation, Ben fell to work at his new task, squirming about in the chair as if the process of getting words into his memory was a very painful one.

But he had quick wits, and had often learned comic songs; so he soon was able to repeat the four verses without mistake, much to his own and Thorny's satisfaction.
"Now we'll talk," said the well-pleased preceptor; and talk they did, one swinging in the hammock, the other rolling about on the pine-needles, as they related their experiences boy fashion.

Ben's were the most exciting; but Thorny's were not without interest, for he had lived abroad for several years, and could tell all sorts of droll stories of the countries he had seen.
Busied with friends, Miss Celia could not help wondering how the lads got on; and, when the tea-bell rang, waited a little anxiously for their return, knowing that she could tell at a glance if they had enjoyed themselves.
"All goes well so far," she thought, as she watched their approach with a smile; for Sancho sat bolt upright in the chair which Ben pushed, while Thorny strolled beside him, leaning on a stout cane newly cut.
Both boys were talking busily, and Thorny laughed from time to time, as if his comrade's chat was very amusing.
"See what a jolly cane Ben cut for me! He's great fun if you don't stroke him the wrong way," said the elder lad, flourishing his staff as they came up.
"What have you been doing down there?
You look so merry, I suspect mischief," asked Miss Celia, surveying them front the steps.
"We've been as good as gold.

I talked, and Ben learned a hymn to please you.