Sometimes a day would be set apart during which they talked nothing but Latin.
Difficulties in the text of their authors they postponed until the evening, and worked them out at home, after supper, with the help of grammar and dictionary.
The boy was not unhappy, on the whole; though for weeks together he longed for sight of George Vyell, who seemed to have vanished into space, or into that limbo where his childhood lay like a toy in a lumber room.

Taffy seldom turned the key of that room.

The stories he imagined now were not about fairies or heroes, but about himself.
He wanted to be a great man and astonish the world.

Just how the world was to be astonished he did not clearly see; but the triumph, in whatever shape it came, was to involve a new gown for his mother, and for his father a whole library of books.
Mr.Raymond never went back to his books now, except to help Taffy.
The Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews was laid aside.
"Some day!" he told Humility.

The Sunday congregation had dwindled to a very few, mostly farm people; Squire Moyle having threatened to expel any tenant of his who dared to set foot within the church.
In the autumn two things happened which set Taffy wondering.
During the first three years at Nannizabuloe, old Mrs.Venning had regularly been carried downstairs to dine with the family.
The sea-air (she said) had put new life into her.