"So I did. That is funny—I forgot it."
"You want to speak about our worthy Dr. Gilbert?" said the farmer, with a tone indicating the degree of deep consideration in which he held his landlord.
"Just so," answered Pitou; "but I am not in need now; since you house me, I can tranquilly wait till he returns from America."
"You will not have to wait long, for he has returned."
"You don't say so; when?"
"I cannot exactly say: but he was at Havre a week ago; for I have a parcel in my saddlebags that comes from him and was handed me at Villers Cotterets, and here it is."
"How do you know it is from him?"
"Because there is a letter in it."
"Excuse me, daddy," interrupted Catherine, "but you boast that you cannot read."
"So I do! I want folks to say: 'There is old Farmer Billet, who owes nothing to nobody—not even the schoolmaster: for he has made himself all alone.' I did not read the letter but the rural constabulary quarter-master whom I met there."