He clambered up on to his knee, and then began:-- "Father, dear, see here; can you understand this?
You've got to prove, you know,--oh, dear! I've forgot that now." "Let's see," said the Major; "I am afraid this is a little above me.
There's Brentwood, now, could do it; he was in the Artillery, you know, and learnt fortification, and that sort of thing.

I don't think I can make much hand of it, Sam." But Sam had put his head upon his father's shoulder, and was crying bitterly.
"Come, come, my old man," said the Major, "don't give way, you know; don't be beat." "I can't make it out at all," said Sam, sobbing.

"I've got such a buzzing in my head with it! And if I can't do it I must stop; because I can't go on to the next till I understand this.

Oh, dear me!" "Lay your head there a little, my boy, till it gets clearer; then perhaps you will be able to make it out.

You may depend on it that you ought to learn it, or the good Doctor wouldn't have set it to you: never let a thing beat you, my son." So Sam cried on his father's shoulder a little, and then went in with his book; and not long after, the Doctor looked in unperceived, and saw the boy with his elbows on the table and the book before him.