"Can you read, my child?" "Yes, sir." "English as well as French?" "Yes, both the same." "But while reading English can you turn it into French?" "When the phrases are not too difficult; yes, sir." "The daily news from the papers, do you think you could do that?" "I have never tried that, because if I read an English paper there is no need for me to translate it for myself, because I understand what it says." "Well, we will try. Tell the machinists that when they want you they can call you, and then come and read from an English paper some articles that I wish to have read to me in French. Go and tell the men and then come back and sit down here beside me." When she had done what she was told, she sat down beside M. Vulfran and took the newspaper that he handed her, "The Dundee News." "What shall I read?" she asked as she unfolded it. "Look for the commercial column." The long black and white columns bewildered poor little Perrine. She was so nervous and her hands trembled so she wondered if she would ever be able to accomplish what she was asked to do. She gazed from the top of one page to the bottom of another, and still could not find what she was seeking. She began to fear that her employer would get impatient with her for being so slow and awkward. But instead of getting impatient he told her to take her time. With that keen hearing so subtle with the blind, he had divined what a state of emotion she was in. He could tell that from the rustling of the newspaper she held in her hand. "We have plenty of time," he said, encouragingly; "besides I don't suppose you have ever read a trade journal before." "No, sir; I have not," she replied. She continued to scan the sheets, then suddenly she gave a little cry of pleasure. "Have you found it?" "Yes, I think so." "Now look for these words," he said in English: "Linen, Hemp, Jute, Sacks, Twine." "But, sir, you know English," she cried, involuntarily. "Five or six words of the trade; that is all, unfortunately," he replied. When she had found what he required she commenced her translation, but she was so hopelessly slow, hesitating and confused, that in a few moments the beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and hands from sheer agony, despite the fact that from time to time he encouraged her. "That will do. I understand that ... go on," he said. And she continued, raising her voice when the hammering blows from the workmen became too loud. At last she came to the end of the column. "Now see if there is any news from Calcutta," said her employer. She scanned the sheets again. "Yes, here it is," she said, after a moment; "From our special correspondent." "That's it. Read!" "The news that we are receiving from Dacca...." Her voice shook so as she said this name that Monsieur Vulfran's attention was attracted. "What's the matter?" he said. "Why are you trembling?" "I don't know," she said, timidly; "perhaps I am nervous."