"
These first three paragraphs I did not read to Ethelbertha.
Fortunately they just filled the first sheet, which I took an
opportunity of slipping into my pocket unobserved.
"The new boy arrived on Sunday morning," she continued. "His name--
if I have got it right--is William. Anyhow, that is the nearest I
can get to it. His other name, if any, I must leave you to extract
from him yourself. It may be Berkshire that he talks, but it sounds
more like barking. Please excuse the pun; but I have just been
talking to him for half an hour, trying to make him understand that I
want him to go home, and maybe, as a result, I am feeling a little
hysterical. Anything more rural I cannot imagine. But he is anxious
to learn, and a fairly wide field is in front of him. I caught him
after our breakfast on Sunday calmly throwing everything left over
onto the dust-heap. I pointed out to him the wickedness of wasting
nourishing food, and impressed upon him that the proper place for
victuals was inside us. He never answers. He stands stock still,
with his mouth as wide open as it will go--which is saying a good
deal--and one trusts that one's words are entering into him. All
Sunday afternoon he was struggling valiantly against an almost
supernatural sleepiness. After tea he got worse, and I began to
think he would be no use to me. We none of us ate much supper; and
Dick, who appears able to understand him, helped him to carry the
things out.
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