"He ought to learn books," said Skenedonk. "Money is sent you every year
to be spent upon him: yet you spend nothing upon him."

"What has he needed?" said my father.

"He needs much now. He needs American clothes. He wept at the sight of a
book. God has removed the touch since he plunged in the water."

"You would make a fool of him," said my father. "He was gone from the
lodge this morning. You taught him an evil path when you carried him
off."

"It is a natural path for him: he will go to his own. I stayed and
talked with De Chaumont, and I bring you an offer. De Chaumont will take
Lazarre into his house, and have him taught all that a white boy should
know. You will pay the cost. If you don't, De Chaumont will look into
this annuity of which you give no account."

"I have never been asked to give account. Could Lazarre learn anything?
The priest has sat over him. He had food and clothing like my own."

"That is true. But he is changed. Marianne will let him go."

"The strange boy may go," said my mother. "But none of my own children
shall leave us to be educated."

I got up and went into the cabin. All three knew I had heard, and they
waited in silence while I approached my mother and put my hands on her
shoulders. There was no tenderness between us, but she had fostered me.