One by one Mr.Simon handed him all he held.

Out of the score there were three Cosmo said he understood, and four he thought he should understand if he were allowed to read them over two or three times.

But Mr.Simon laid them all together again, and back into the drawer.
"Now I shall know what I am about," he said.

"Tell me what you have been doing at school." Were my book a treatise on education, it might be worth while to give some account of Peter Simon's ways of furthering human growth.
But intellectual development is not my main business or interest, and I mean to say little more concerning Cosmo's than that, after about six weeks' work, the boy one day begged Mr.Simon to let him look at those papers again, and found to his delight that he understood all but three or four of them.
That first day, Mr.Simon gave him an ode of Horace, and a poem by Wordsworth to copy--telling him to put in every point as it was in the book exactly, but to note any improvement he thought might be made in the pointing.

He told him also to look whether he could see any resemblance between the two poems.
As he sat surrounded by the many books, Cosmo felt as if he were in the heart of a cloud of witnesses.
That first day was sufficient to make the heart of the boy cleave to his new master.