“Yes, I changed your draft a good deal, and added new points,” Henry observed. “But it is greatly improved by them, I think,” he added complacently.
Alas! Henry was beginning to have a very good opinion of himself. Two days before he was not aware that he was so clever.
But the Sage, actuated by—what? seemed determined to criticize the letter still further. “Henry,” said he, poring over the letter with knitted brows, “Henry, near the end you have written, ‘if the reader is not able to make this out,’ and so on. Henry,” smiling pleasantly, “I didn’t know you were an Irishman before, but that sounds like it!”
Henry was about to reply, but Charles took up the defence, saying: “George, give me that letter; you do nothing but find fault with it. Don’t you see that Marmaduke will take that passage as a piece of refined French na—nave—knavery! Botheration! You know the word I mean, Henry.”
“Naïveté?” Henry suggested.
“Yes, that’s it. Marmaduke will take it for na-a-a-a—. Yes; for that;” he concluded, gulping down a sob, and becoming somewhat flushed and perturbed.
“Charley, listen to a little sound advice,” Henry said, with the air of a great philosopher. “In the first place, that isn’t the right word in the right place. Second place, never speak in a foreign language, nor whisper even a syllable of it, till you know it, and not then, unless you are learning it, or unless it is necessary. Some people who can write their address in French strike out in print in the village ‘Weekly’ with half-a-dozen meaningless words, that they themselves don’t understand. But the printer, who knows even less, and cares for no one’s feelings, always makes an interesting muddle of it all. So, Charley, take warning and steer clear of such nonsense. English is the best, as long as you are where it is spoken.”
All looked admiringly at the oracle, Charley by no means angry at being thus reproved.
“How did you manage to get the pretty French names?” Jim asked, innocently enough.
Will scowled at the boy, but Henry answered readily: “They are not real names, Jim; only common nouns. I relied on Marmaduke’s ignorance of French to bring in some rather uncommon words instead of names. Besides, I didn’t know of any names long enough, and grand enough, and sonorous enough, to suit the occasion; but still, some of these words may be family names for all I know or care. First name, Sauterelle, a grasshopper; second name, Hirondelle, a swallow; Patronymic, de la Chaloupe, of the longboat. Now Bélître Scélérat really means Atrocious Scoundrel; but Scheming Scoundrel sounds better in English—it has a true poetic ring. Of course, boys, when he finds the letter and you help him to make it out, you will read the words as they are in the letter, not as I have explained them.”