“Italian?”
“There was one of the sisters that knew Italian,” said Lizzie, “but it wasn’t taught regular.”
“Russian? Spanish? Dutch?”
Lizzie shook her head.
“That’s a pity. Never mind. I’ll put you down for French, anyway. I’ll take you up with me to the workhouse hospital at six o’clock this evening. I want you to speak French to a man that’s there, one of the sailors out of the ship that was wrecked.”
“I mightn’t be fit,” said Lizzie, doubtfully.
“Oh, yes, you will. Just look up the French for religion before you start, and get off the names of the principal kinds of religion in that language. All you have to do is to ask the man, ‘What is your religion?’ and then understand whatever it is he says to you by the way of an answer.”
Dr. Whitty next called on Mr. Jackson and explained the situation to him. The rector, rather unwillingly, offered French, and seemed relieved when he was told that that language was already provided for.
“I thought,” said the doctor, “that you’d be sure to know Greek.”
“I do,” said the Rector, “but not modern Greek.”