with a smile. I was half inclined to make it try; however, he moved off to open the door, and, as he raised the latch, he looked up to the inscription above, and said, with a stupid mixture of awkwardness and elation:
` ``Miss Catherine! I can read yon, nah.''
` ``Wonderful,'' I exclaimed. ``Pray let us hear you--you are grown clever!''
`He spelt, and drawled over by syllables, the name--"Hareton Earnshaw".
` ``And the figures?'' I cried encouragingly, perceiving that he came to a dead halt.
` ``I cannot tell them yet,'' he answered.
``Oh, you dunce!'' I said, laughing heartily at his failure.
`The fool stared, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl gathering over his eyes, as if uncertain whether he might not join in my mirth: whether it were not pleasant familiarity, or what it really was, contempt. I settled his doubts, by suddenly retrieving my gravity and desiring him to walk away, for I came to see Linton, not him. He reddened--I saw that by the
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