“I do so often feel like that! I want to know lots of things; but it does seem so slow and tiresome learning. Then I get tired and cross and naughty; and sometimes I just bang down my books and run away out of doors. I shan’t be able to do that when I go to school; but at home I can sometimes, because some of my lessons I do quite alone, and there isn’t always anybody in the room even.”
“I know that feeling very well,” answered Herr Adler. “I used to have it too; and I should know a good deal more than I do now if I hadn’t given way to it so often. But you take my advice, my little friend; and next time things seem very dull, try to find out if they can’t be interesting somehow. If it’s history, try to think that all these people were real men and women once; try to put yourself in their places, and think how you would have acted if you had been there. If it’s geography, just shut your eyes and try to picture the places you have to learn about. Now that you are a bit of a traveller, you should be able to do that. Think of the sort of people who live there, and the animals, and the great mountains and wonderful forests, or rivers, or deserts—or whatever it is. Even if it’s only a hard sum, it can be interesting enough if you will only make up your mind to do your very best with it. And as for Latin and Greek, you must think of all the wonderful old books you will be able to read when you have mastered them. Oh yes, everything can be interesting, and is interesting really. It is our own fault if we cannot find out where the interest lies.”
“I will try that when I get home!” cried Squib, who was always pleased with a new idea; “and I shall try to remember you, sir, and all the things you have told us. I shall say to myself, ‘What would Herr Adler say if he saw you so idle?’ I think that will help.”
“You can think of something better than that, my little friend,” was Herr Adler’s answer; and Squib looked quickly up into his eyes and did not ask his meaning, for he seemed to see it written there, and his face grew suddenly red.
“I’ll try,” he answered, in a tone that was almost a whisper; and Herr Adler did not ask him what he meant, yet Squib felt sure he understood.
Seppi heard this talk a little wistfully. Somehow it seemed to him as if his friends lived in such a different world from his own. For a moment he felt isolated from them, almost ashamed of his humble poverty and lowliness; and when at luncheon-time the food was brought out, he grew shamefaced over the coarse fare which he produced from his wallet. It did not seem fit to offer to his companions, and he began to make an apology for it, as he had long ceased to do with Squib now.
Then Herr Adler helped himself to a piece of hard bread and cheese, instead of taking any of Lisa’s cakes, saying smilingly,—
“This reminds me of my boyhood, when I and my brothers used to wander about Silesia on foot, and make our money go as far as it would by living with the peasants and eating their food. No; I like this, thank you, my little friend. It revives so many pleasant memories.”
“But it isn’t fit for you,” objected Seppi. “It is such poor fare. It is only fit for—”
“Now, if you don’t take care I shall serve you the same as an old friend of mine served his wife,” said Herr Adler, with a smile, “and tell you the same story as he told to us.”