I went with the animals to the front of the boat.
What work could that poor little boy do?
I looked round and saw that his mother was making him repeat a lesson from a book she held in her hand. He seemed to be having great difficulty in mastering it, but his mother was very patient.
“No,” she said at last, “Arthur, you don’t know it, at all.”
“I can’t, Mamma, I just can’t,” he said, plaintively. “I’m sick.”
“Your head is not sick. I can’t allow you to grow up in utter ignorance because you’re an invalid, Arthur.”
That seemed very severe to me, yet she spoke in a sweet, kind way.
“Why do you make me so unhappy? You know how I feel when you won’t learn.”
“I cannot, Mamma; I cannot.” And he began to cry.
But Mrs. Milligan did not let herself be won over by his tears, although she appeared touched and even more unhappy.