But me!--at my age!--and I don't even know the letter A from B,
and I have such a dull head that I would soon tire out the best of
teachers."
"Well, supposing I tried teaching you?" said Paula timidly.
"You, Mademoiselle!" cried the Breton stupefied, "you to try such a thing
as to teach me!"
"And why not, if my uncle should let me?"
"Well, Mademoiselle, that would be different. I believe that with you to
teach me I might be able to learn," and the Breton leaned on his spade for
a moment.
"You are so good and kind and patient, I would not be afraid of your making
fun of my stupid efforts. But there, there's no use thinking about such a
thing, for I'm sure the master would never permit it."
* * * * *
In fact, it did take a good deal to persuade my father, but Paula won his
permission at last.
The Breton came every Saturday night Teresa complained a bit at first,
seeing her kitchen turned into a night-school for such a rough ignorant
workman, but "for Jesus Christ's sake," as Paula said, she had finally
become resigned to it.
It was both pathetic and comical to see the efforts which the poor Breton
made as he tried to follow with one great finger the letters which his
young teacher pointed out to him.
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