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She was just trying to make the horns look right, rubbing them out and retouching them, while the other girls rose up in their seats and brought their heads together in a cluster to see, declaring in a whisper that “it was the wonderfullest thing how Henrietta could draw,” when who should look down among them but Miss Reade herself. As soon as Henrietta became conscious of Miss Reade’s attention she dropped her pencil, not with the old defiant feeling, but with a melancholy sense of having lost standing with one whose good opinion she would fain have retained.

The teacher took the slate in her hand, not in Miss Tucker’s energetic fashion, but with a polite “Excuse me,” which made Henrietta’s heart sink down within her. For half a minute Miss Reade scrutinized the drawing without saying a word.

“Did anybody ever give you any drawing lessons?” she said to the detected criminal.

“No, ma’am.”

“You draw well; you ought to have a chance. You’ll make an artist some day. Your cow is not quite right. If you’ll bring the picture to me after school I’ll show you some things about it. I think you’d better put it away now till you get your geography lesson.”

Henrietta, full of wonder at finding her art no longer regarded as a sin, put the slate into the desk, and cheerfully resumed the study of the boundaries and chief products of North Carolina, while Miss Reade returned to the hearing of the third-reader class.

“I say, Henrietta, she’s j-u-s-t s-p-l-e-n-d-i-d!” whispered Maria Thomas. And Rob Riley thought Miss Reade was almost as fine as Henrietta herself.

“You see,” said Miss Reade to Henrietta after school, “that the hind legs of your cow look longer than the fore legs.”

“There’s something wrong.” said the girl, “but that isn’t it. I’ve measured, and the cow’s just as high before as behind, though she doesn’t look so.”

“Yes, but you’ve put her head a little toward you. The hind legs ought to seem shorter at a little distance off. Now try it. Make her not so high from the ground behind,” and Miss Reade proceeded to explain one or two principles of perspective. When Henrietta had experimented on her cow and saw the result, she was delighted.

“I don’t know much about drawing,” said Miss Reade, “but I’ve a set of drawing books and some drawing cards. Now, if you’ll let drawing alone till you get your lessons each day, I’ll lend you my drawing books and give you all the help I can.”

When the old man Newton heard that the “new school ma’am” was permitting Henrietta to draw “fool picters on her slate,” he was sure that it never would work. He believed in breaking a child’s will, for his part, “though the one that broke Henriettar’s will would hev to git up purty airly in the mornin’ now, certain,” he added with a grim smile. But when the old man found Henrietta unexpectedly industrious, toiling over her studies at night, he was surprised beyond measure; and when he understood the compact by which studies were to come first and drawing afterward, he winked his eye knowingly at his wife.

“Who’d a thought that little red-headed school ma’am would a ben so cute? She knows the very bait for Henriettar now. That woman would do to trade hosses.”

But when the little schoolmistress seriously proposed that he should send Henrietta down to New York to take lessons in drawing, he quickly changed his mind. Of what kind of use was drawing? And then, it would cost, according to Miss Reade’s own account, about two or three hundred dollars a year for board; all to learn a lot of nonsense. It is true, when the teacher craftily told him stories of the prices that some lucky artists received for their work, he felt as though she were pointing down into a gold mine. But the money in his hand was good money, and he never sent good money after bad. And so Henrietta’s newly raised hope of being an artist was dashed, and Rob Riley was grievously disappointed; for he was sure that Henrietta would astonish the metropolis if once she could take her transcendent ability out of East Weston into New York. Besides, Rob Riley himself was going off to New York to develop his own talent by learning the granite cutter’s trade. He confided to Henrietta that he expected to come to something better than granite cutting, for he had heard that there had been granite cutters who, being, like himself, good at figures, in time had come to be great contractors and builders and bosses. He was going to be something, and when he was settled at work in New York Henrietta had a letter from him telling that he was learning mechanical drawing in the Cooper Union night school, and that he got books out of the Apprentices’ Library. He also attended free lectures, and was looking out for a chance to be something some day. Henrietta carried the letter about with her, and wished heartily that she also might go to New York, where she could improve herself and see Rob Riley occasionally.