_WRITING TO GRANDFATHER._
IN another minute Jack's arm was round Genderen's neck, coaxing and
entreating for something, she could not tell what. He took up one of
the peppersticks and pretended to write on her pinafore.
"When would the schoolmaster come again?" was that it? Genderen counted
the number of days upon her fingers. Ten more, and he would be due. But
Jack persistently shook his head and wrote on. Thinking he wanted to
borrow a slate and pencil, she led him into the sit-kamé and touched
the door of the cupboard where their books were kept. This was right.