The little girl had disappeared for a
moment. She came back with a blue-backed spelling-book, a second
reader and a worn copy of "Mother Goose," and she opened first one
and then the other until the attention of the visitor was caught--
the black-haired youth watching her meanwhile with lowering brows.
"Where did you learn to read?" Hale asked. The old man answered:
"A preacher come by our house over on the Nawth Fork 'bout three
year ago, and afore I knowed it he made me promise to send her
sister Sally to some school up thar on the edge of the
settlements. And after she come home, Sal larned that little gal
to read and spell. Sal died 'bout a year ago."
Hale reached over and got the spelling-book, and the old man
grinned at the quick, unerring responses of the little girl, and
the engineer looked surprised. She read, too, with unusual
facility, and her pronunciation was very precise and not at all
like her speech.
"You ought to send her to the same place," he said, but the old
fellow shook his head.
"I couldn't git along without her."
The little girl's eyes began to dance suddenly, and, without
opening "Mother Goose," she began:
"Jack and Jill went up a hill," and then she broke into a laugh
and Hale laughed with her.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38