“Then I will try so hard, and I’ll write down on pieces of paper all the things you don’t want me to do, and carry ’em in my pockets, and take them out and look at them sometimes.”
“What!” cried Helen, laughing.
“Well, that’s what Mr Limpney told me to do, so that I should not forget the things he taught me. Look here!”
He thrust his hand into his trousers-pocket, and brought out eagerly a crumpled-up piece of paper, but as he did so a number of oats flew out all over the room.
“O Dexter! what a pocket! Now what could you do with oats?”
“They were only for my rabbits,” he said. “There, those are all nouns that end in us, feminine nouns. Look, tribus, acus, porticus. Isn’t it stupid?”
“It is the construction of the language, Dexter.”
“Yes; that’s what Mr Limpney said. There, I shall put down everything you don’t like me to do on a piece of paper that way; and take it out and read it, so as to remember it.”
“Try another way, Dexter.”
“How?” he said wonderingly.