Peregrine's Progress Part 28

"No, I don't! How can they be?"

"In this manner: every devil, be he an evil thought, pa.s.sion, hate or revenge, a desire to do harm, to lie, to steal, to kill or to run away like a coward--these are all demons to be fought with and overcome, and the oftener we vanquish them, the stronger and better we grow, until at last you--or I--may become something very near an angel."

"I could never be an angel!" she retorted sullenly. "And what's more, I don't want--"

"You do," said I, "indeed you do, I'm sure, or why should you so hate this devil of yours and fear the beyond? And there is an angel inside you, Diana; I have seen it peep at me through your eyes--"

"Now I think you're talking foolish!" said she petulantly.

"Perhaps so," I nodded, "but 'foolish' is an adjective which in this instance should be an adverb and which we will proceed to make so by the suffix 'ly.' Thus instead of saying, I talk 'foolish,' you must say I talk 'foolishly'--"

"So you do!" quoth she.

"Then I will talk grammar instead, Diana. Pray give me your most careful attention. Yonder is a tree, which is a noun common; the tree is shady, which is an adjective qualifying the noun 'tree,' and casts its shade obliquely, which is an adverb governing the qualifying verb 'casts.'" Thus, as we walked, I proceeded to give her a definition of the various parts of speech with their relation one to another, and found her to be, on the whole, very quick and of a retentive memory.

Encouraged thus, I plunged into my subject whole-heartedly and was discussing the difference between transitive and intransitive verbs when she checked me in full career by asking:

"Have you a father and mother?"

"Good heaven!" I exclaimed. "What has this to do with grammar?"

"Well, but have you?" she persisted.

"No," answered I; "they died before I can remember."

"So did mine!" she nodded. "But you have friends?"

"Yes."

"Many?"

"Three," I answered. "To be particular, one aunt and two uncles."

"Rich folk, ain't they?"

"Well, yes, I suppose they are. And allow me to point out that the word 'ain't' is becoming obsolete in polite conversation, giving place to 'are not' or to 'is not' as the case may be. Now, returning to our grammar--" And forthwith I began to decline for her benefit verbs regular and irregular, together with their tenses; I pa.r.s.ed and a.n.a.lysed simple sentences, explaining the just relation of Subject, Object and Predicate, while she watched me grave-eyed and listened to my grammatical _dicta_ with an attention that I found highly gratifying. Thus I dilated upon the beauties of our language, its wealth of metaphor and adjectival possibilities, its intricacies and pitfalls, until the sun was high and my throat parched.

"There, Diana," I concluded, "here endeth our first lesson for the present. I trust you have not found me too discursive?"

"Well," said she, knitting her black brows thoughtfully, "I'm not sure. It all sounds very--wonderful, but I don't understand a word of it."

"Great heaven!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Why could you not say so before?"

"I didn't like to interrupt you."

"Here I have been talking for a good hour--"

"Two hours," she nodded; "indeed, you're a wonderful talker!"

"But all to no purpose it seems!" said I ruefully.

"No," she answered, "it has helped to pa.s.s the time and I knows that a noun is a tree."

"Oh, indeed!" quoth I. "And what more have you learned?"

"That if you add to a verb it's an adverb, though both are much of a muchness, and an adjective is not like either, though they all has summat to do with a tree we pa.s.sed a long time ago."

At this I gasped and sinking down in a shady spot, fanned myself feebly with my hat.

"My poor child," said I mournfully, "my poor--"

"I'm not your child!" she retorted. "And as for poor--what o' this?"

and she shook the bag at her girdle until the coins within it c.h.i.n.ked.

"This is most distressing!" said I, shaking my head.

"What is?"

"A noun is not a tree--"

"You says it was--"

"I told you a tree was a noun--which is a very different thing."

"If a tree's a noun, a noun's a tree--or should be, and if 'tain't, then grammar's foolish and I don't want none of it--"

"That sentence is execrable grammar, Diana, because two negatives make a positive hence when you say 'you don't want none,' it really means that you do want some--"

"I don't care!" she said in her sullen fashion.

"But you must--"

"Well, I shan't!"

"Don't be a naughty child, Diana! Please come and sit down."

"I hates your grammar--"

"The sun is very hot, Diana, so come and sit down here by me and let us talk like the true friends I hope we are."

With a petulant gesture she obeyed; so there we sat side by side, our backs to the broad bole of the great tree, a branch of which, drooping low, made for us a green bower, as it were. And here, sitting thus side by side, we continued our discussion on this wise:

DIANA (sullenly). However, I don't want any more o' your grammar; I gets along well enough without it--

MYSELF (interrupting). But then I want you to do much more than just get along, Diana.

DIANA. How much more?

MYSELF. Well, I want you to live to the utmost of your capacity, to make the very best of yourself and your life, to become the wonderful woman you may be if only you will. And this you can never do without a knowledge of grammar and deportment.