"So she has," responded Horace.
"She consented about the names; but said that she would send me word about the school."
"And she didn't give a ready consent?"
"No; but I'm almost sure that she will do it. And now about Flea. Did you talk with her?"
"Yes. She consented to go to school, and said—that I was the best old duffer in New York State."
"Oh, Horace! She must be taught not to use such language. It's dreadful! Poor little dear!"
"It'll take sometime to alter that," replied Horace, shaking his head. "They've had a fearful time, and she's been used to talking that way always; she's heard nothing else. You can't alter life's habits in a day."
"But Madame Duval won't have her if she's impudent," said Ann.
"Oh, but she's scarcely that," expostulated Horace; "she doesn't understand. I'll try to correct her sometime."
But he felt the blood come up to his hair as he promised; for it seemed almost impossible to approach the girl with a matter so personal. For the present, he dismissed the thought.