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A French Lesson

           Sarafeltalittleawkward.

           "Ithinkheengagedher,"shesaid,"becausehe—hethoughtIwouldlikeher,MissMinchin."

           "Iamafraid,"saidMissMinchin,withaslightlysoursmile,"thatyouhavebeenaveryspoiledlittlegirlandalwaysimaginethatthingsaredonebecauseyoulikethem.MyimpressionisthatyourpapawishedyoutolearnFrench."

           IfSarahadbeenolderorlesspunctiliousaboutbeingquitepolitetopeople,shecouldhaveexplainedherselfinaveryfewwords.But,asitwas,shefeltaflushrisingonhercheeks.MissMinchinwasaverysevereandimposingperson,andsheseemedsoabsolutelysurethatSaraknewnothingwhateverofFrenchthatshefeltasifitwouldbealmostrudetocorrecther.ThetruthwasthatSaracouldnotrememberthetimewhenshehadnotseemedtoknowFrench.Herfatherhadoftenspokenittoherwhenshehadbeenababy.HermotherhadbeenaFrenchwoman,andCaptainCrewehadlovedherlanguage,soithappenedthatSarahadalwaysheardandbeenfamiliarwithit.

           "I—IhaveneverreallylearnedFrench,but—but—"shebegan,tryingshylytomakeherselfclear.

           OneofMissMinchin’schiefsecretannoyanceswasthatshedidnotspeakFrenchherself,andwasdesirousofconcealingtheirritatingfact.She,therefore,hadnointentionofdiscussingthematterandlayingherselfopentoinnocentquestioningbyanewlittlepupil.

           "Thatisenough,"shesaidwithpolitetartness."Ifyouhavenotlearned,youmustbeginatonce.TheFrenchmaster,MonsieurDufarge,willbehereinafewminutes.Takethisbookandlookatituntilhearrives."

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Roboto Lora
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