If there was anything Vital was an adept at not doing, it was making a
speech in English. He was considered quite clever at playing the organ
in the little village church, singing the mass, teaching school, and a
hundred other things, but at speaking English he was known as an
arrant failure.

For a few moments he stood struggling hard to regain his composure,
and ardently wishing that Katie were at his side to inspire him as she
had inspired his brother. Finally, he launched forth, to the quiet
amusement of the few English farmers present. Truly, he took liberties
with the language seldom attempted even by French-Canadians, to whom
the Saxon tongue appears to have no terrors. Yet, had he spoken in
Dutch, he would have been listened to just as patiently, for all
present knew and appreciated his quiet worth. After accomplishing the
feat of letting them know, at least half a dozen times, that he was
glad once more to see his brother with them, he got hopelessly
wrecked, and gazed hard at his plate for inspiration. Finding no
succor there, his thoughts again galloped off to the young woman who
had come late, where they evidently delighted to linger. A peaceful
smile stole over the speaker's worried face, and absently taking up
his fork he began to drum contentedly on the table with it, utterly
forgetful of those who were waiting anxiously for the remainder of his
remarks.

With a broad smile, farmer Charest began to applaud loudly, receiving
generous aid from the guests.

This unexpected appreciation caused Vital to color painfully, well
intentioned though he knew the applause to be. The thought that Katie