"Now don't worry any more about the Breton, Paula," he answered. "He knows
enough to do what's necessary to gain his living, and if he wants to work
faithfully and not spend all his money on drink, he can do that without
knowing how to read. However, if it bothers you because he cannot read, why
don't you advise him to go to night-school? I can't imagine what could have
happened to him, but he's changed mightily, and for the better. I only hope
the change in him will last!"
* * * * *
The days grew longer, the snow disappeared and the trees and fields began
to put on their spring clothes. Week by week the Breton's home also began
to show a marvelous transformation. The pigs who formerly found the garden
a sort of happy rooting-ground now found themselves confronted with a neat
fence that resisted all their attacks, and the garden itself with its
well-raked beds, showed substantial promise of a harvest of onions,
potatoes and cabbage in the near future. Spotless white curtains and shiny
panes of window-glass began to show in place of the dirty rags and paper
which used to stop part of the winter winds from entering, and the rain
which formerly kept merry company with the wind in that unhappy dwelling
now found itself completely shut out by shingles on the roof and sidewalk;
and a certain air of neatness and order so pervaded the whole place that it
became the talk of the little town.
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