“Oh, I wish I could do that!” cried Alfred eagerly. “But I could never do it so well!”
“I’m going to persevere till I make you do it better,” said Swythe. “Now we’ll leave that for a bit and begin a Latin lesson.”
Alfred sighed and looked longingly at the faint initial letter.
But his interest was taken up directly, for Swythe took up one of his quill pens, examined it, and then, after giving the ink a stir, dipped in his pen and tried it.
The next minute, while the boy sat resting his chin upon his hands, it seemed as if beautifully-formed tiny letters kept on growing out of the pen, running off at the point, and standing one after another in a row, almost exactly the same size, till four words stood out clearly upon the cream-coloured parchment.
As he formed the letters with his clever white fingers, Swythe repeated the name of each, pausing a little to give finish and effect as well as sound to the words he formed, till he had, after beginning some little distance in, made so many words upon one of the faintly-drawn lines and reaching right across the parchment.
“It’s wonderful!” cried Alfred. “I could never do that!”
“It is not wonderful, and you soon will be able to do it,” said Swythe; “but let’s say all those words over again letter by letter, and then the words.”
“They are Latin?” asked the boy.