“Now I must tell you about this. So you chose a book, Davie?” as he laid it in her hands.
“Yes,” said Davie, “I did.”
“Well,” Miss Parrott turned the leaves of an old First Reader. “Now this makes me very sad.”
“Oh, don’t tell about it, if it makes you feel bad,” cried Polly in distress. “You don’t want her to, Davie, do you?”
Davie swallowed hard, trying to say, “No, don’t tell about it.”
But before he could get the words out, Miss Parrott said quickly, “I really should like to tell about it, children. Well, you see, I wasn’t quick about learning to read, as Sister was, and our governess—”
“What’s a gover—what you said?” David broke in. He must know if he really were going to understand about the book.
“Oh, Davie!” cried Polly reprovingly, “you mustn’t interrupt.”
“A governess was the lady who taught Sister and me our lessons. You see we didn’t go to school, but studied at home.”
“Oh,” said Polly and David together.