"Yes, any thing,—all kinds of books and papers and the Bible and every thing."
"I can learn THEM, I's sure I can," said Tidy. "Le's begin now."
"Well, you see that first one,—that's A. You see how it's made,—two lines go right up to a point, and then a straight one across. Now say, what is it?"
"A."
"Yes; and now the next one,—that's B. There's a straight line down and two curves on the front. What's that?"
"B."
"Now you must remember those two,—I sha'n't tell you any more this morning, and I shall make you do just as Miss Agnes used to make me. Miss Agnes was our governess at home before we came here to school. She made me take a newspaper,—see, here's a piece,—and prick the letters on it with a pin. Now you take this piece of paper, and prick every A and every B that you can find on it, and to-morrow I'll show you some more."
Just then the bell sounded from the schoolhouse, and Amelia and Susan went to their duties, but not with half so glad a heart as Tidy set herself to hers. Down she squatted on the rock, and did not leave the place till her first task was successfully accomplished, and the precious piece of perforated paper safely stowed away for Amelia's inspection.
Day after day this process was repeated, until all the letters great and small had been learned; and now for the more difficult work of putting them together. There seemed to be but one step between Tidy and perfect happiness. If she could only have a hymn-book and know how to read it, she would ask nothing more. She didn't care so much about the Bible. If she had known, as you do, children, that it is God's word, no doubt she would have been anxious to learn what it contained. But this truth she had never heard, and therefore all her desires were centered in the hymn-book, in which were stored so many of those precious and beautiful hymns which she loved so much to hear Uncle Simon repeat and sing. Would she ever be so happy as to be able to sing them from her own book?