“They do come in April, but also in March, and this year the weather has been warm, and everything is advanced.”
“So,” continued Bramber, “when the English tried to pronounce the French name, Fleurs d’Avril, they made daverils, and then slid away into further difference, and settled down on daffodils. Do you know about the Conquest by the Normans?”
Kate shook her head sadly.
“I know nothing--nothing at all.” Then, after a pause, she asked timidly, “Will you be very good and kind, and repeat those verses, and let me learn them by heart? Oh,” she gasped, and expanded, and clasped her hands, “it would be such a joy to me! and I could repeat them for ever and ever, and be happy.”
“I shall be delighted.”
Kate planted herself on one of the benches by the table, leaned her chin in her hands, and listened to each line of the poem with concentrated attention. One or two words she did not understand, and Bramber explained their meaning to her. When the piece had been read over slowly, she said--
“May I try? Do you mind? I think I know it.”
Then she recited the poem with perfect accuracy.
“You are quick at learning,” said Bramber. “I hope I may find my pupils in the National School as eager to acquire and as ready to apprehend.”
“I never heard words like these before,” said Kate.