"What of that? I will preach two."
During the days of sickness Don Giuseppe, as well as doing double duty, would himself nurse the poor invalid. How he managed it was known to himself alone.
He had not forgotten—there was no chance of forgetting—the deplorable language of his parishioners. The curate mixed with them as much as he could, making friends especially with the young men and the boys. He interested himself in their work and in their play, treating them with such a spirit of friendly comradeship that they would crowd to talk to him whenever he appeared. One day some of them lamented that they could neither read nor write.
"Let us start a night school," proposed Don Bepi, "and I will teach you."
"It would be too difficult," objected another; "some of us know a little, some less, and others nothing at all."
"What of that?" replied the priest. "We will have two classes-those who know something, and those who know nothing. We will get the schoolmaster to take the upper class, and I will teach the alphabet."
"Why shouldn't he teach the alphabet?" protested a loyal admirer of
Don Giuseppe.
Bepi laughed. "The alphabet is hard work," he answered, "I had rather keep it."
"But we can't take up your time like that for nothing," declared another. "What can we do for you in return?"
"Stop swearing," answered Bepi promptly, "and I shall then be more than repaid."