One day she chanced to be in the schoolroom with Henry Sympson, whose amiable and affectionate disposition had quickly recommended him to her regard. The boy was busied about some mechanical contrivance; his lameness made him fond of sedentary occupation. He began to ransack his tutor's desk for a piece of wax or twine necessary to his work. Moore happened to be absent. Mr. Hall, indeed, had called for him to take a long walk. Henry could not immediately find the object of his search. He rummaged compartment after compartment; and at last, opening an inner drawer, he came upon--not a ball of cord or a lump of beeswax, but a little bundle of small marble-coloured cahiers, tied with tape. Henry looked at them. "What rubbish Mr. Moore stores up in his desk!" he said. 
One day she chanced to be in the schoolroom with Henry Sympson, an amiable and affectionate boy whom she liked. The boy was busied about some mechanical contrivance, and began to ransack his tutor's desk for a piece of twine he needed for his work. Moore was absent, out walking with Mr. Hall. Henry could not find what he wanted, though he rummaged in every compartment; and at last, opening an inner drawer, he came upon a little bundle of exercise-books, tied with tape. Henry looked at them.
"What rubbish Mr. Moore stores in his desk!" he said. 