He had brought back his book of maps to the farm; and there he sat on many an evening teaching his cousin, who had strange fancies respecting the places about which she wished to learn, and was coolly indifferent to the very existence of other towns, and countries, and seas far more famous in story.

She was occasionally wilful, and at times very contemptuous as to the superior knowledge of her instructor; but, in spite of it all, Philip went regularly on the appointed evenings to Haytersbank--through keen black east wind, or driving snow, or slushing thaw; for he liked dearly to sit a little behind her, with his arm on the back of her chair, she stooping over the outspread map, with her eyes,--could he have seen them,--a good deal fixed on one spot in the map, not Northumberland, where Kinraid was spending the winter, but those wild northern seas about which he had told them such wonders.
One day towards spring, she saw Molly Corney coming towards the farm.

The companions had not met for many weeks, for Molly had been from home visiting her relations in the north.

Sylvia opened the door, and stood smiling and shivering on the threshold, glad to see her friend again.

Molly called out, when a few paces off,-- 'Why, Sylvia, is that thee! Why, how thou'rt growed, to be sure! What a bonny lass thou is!' 'Dunnot talk nonsense to my lass,' said Bell Robson, hospitably leaving her ironing and coming to the door; but though the mother tried to look as if she thought it nonsense, she could hardly keep down the smile that shone out of her eyes, as she put her hand on Sylvia's shoulder, with a fond sense of proprietorship in what was being praised.
'Oh! but she is,' persisted Molly.