“Yes,” said Swythe, “and you are going to learn them so as to know them next time you see them.”
Alfred shook his head, but he managed to repeat the Latin words straightforward, and after a while pick them out when asked. Then the monk proceeded to get out his colours so as to ornament the big initial letter of what Alfred had learned in Latin as well as in English was “The History of the Good King Almon.”
Then came the most interesting part of the lesson, for, after Swythe had placed his colours ready—red, yellow, and blue—all in powders ground up so fine that it was necessary to shut out the breeze which came in at the window, Alfred learned how the monk made his brushes, by taking a tuft of badger’s hair and tying up one end carefully with a very fine thread of flax.
“Now watch me,” said the old man, and Alfred looked closely while Swythe took a duck’s quill out of a bunch, cut off the hollow part, and then lightly cut off the end where it had grown from the duck’s wing. Then the tuft of badger’s hair was held by its tied end and passed through the monk’s lips so as to bring the hairs together to a point, which was carefully pushed into the most open part of the quill and screwed round till the whole of the tuft was inside. Then a thrust with a thin piece of wood sent the hairs right through, all but the tied-up ends; and Swythe held his work up in triumph—a complete little paint-brush.
“How clever!” cried the boy eagerly; “but how did you get that badger’s hair?”
“Saved,” said Swythe, “when the dogs killed that badger last year.”
“And the ducks’ quills?”
“I picked them up when the ducks were plucked by the scullion.”
“You did not tell me how you made that black paint.”