“I think we can do it, sir,” said the foreman, brightening up. “I accidentally discovered that one of our girls, Hattie Butler, is a good linguist—reads German and French as well as she does English—one of our best and most quiet girls, too.”
“Send for her, please,” said Mr. Legare. “I do so want to preserve these works in good shape.”
And presently Hattie Butler stood before the trio—one of her employers, Mr. Legare, and the foreman—calm and lady-like, neat in her white apron and brown calico dress, her black hair wound in a queenly crown about her shapely head.
“Hattie, see what can be done with these old reviews,” said the foreman, with the familiar, bossy style peculiar to too many of his class.
The young girl took up the French work, and instantly said:
“This is very old. A French review of Dante’s ‘Inferno.’ Some pages, I see, are misplaced; but if all are here, sir, I can soon arrange them.”
Mr. W—— looked at Mr. Legare triumphantly.
“The German work—can you arrange that also, young lady?” asked Mr. Legare, looking in wonder at this beautiful girl, so young, working here, yet evidently a scholar.
Hattie took up the other review, glanced over the pages, and replied:
“Yes, sir. I see that this is a bitter attack on Martin Luther, and must date with the first ages of the Protestant Reformation.”