The Baker's Tale Read Online Free PDF Page A

be inserted in the mouth further than necessary. Also, it is worthy of mention that, in polite society, the spoon is not used as a catapult to hurl small objects round the room.”
    And she could be stubborn. Most children in London were taught to read by their parents if they were taught at all. Marie helped Christopher with his lessons and began the process of teaching Ruby.
    â€œI know the alphabet,” Ruby told me. “A . . . B . . . C . . . D . . . Me.”
    â€œNow it is my turn,” I said, seeking to gently correct her. “A . . . B . . . C . . . D . . . E—”
    â€œNo! A . . . B . . . C . . . D . . . Me.”
    â€œRuby Spriggs, I regret to inform you that ‘me’ is not a letter in the English alphabet.”
    â€œMe.”
    â€œE.”
    â€œMe.”
    â€œOf all the obstinate, stubborn, wrong-headed little creatures that were ever born, you are the most so.”
    Stubborn, but gifted where letters were concerned.
    The Church of England at that time held to the position that one should learn to read the Bible as part of the journeyto salvation. To the extent that children were taught to read and write, it was most often through religious texts.
    The learning center that Octavius Joy founded was a temple of good intentions with a different view. The center was open to men, women, and children of all ages with separate classes for children and adults. Reading was taught to the young with an eye toward Mother Goose and to adults through the reading of light classics and popular journals.
    â€œI want those who come here to understand when they leave that reading is for pleasure as well as knowledge,” Mr. Joy said.
    Ruby learned the letters of the alphabet and the novelty of their shapes by sound and by sight. She had a gift for putting them together on paper, which she did with the deliberation of a bookkeeper and in a hand that was clear. She worked hard at her learning.
    â€œA” is an archer. And also an apple. “B” is a ball. And also a boy. “C” is a cat. “D” is a dog.” And so on through the zebra at the end of the alphabet.
    Sometimes, the students at the learning center read aloud in chorus.
    â€œThe man has a hat . . . The man has a fat cat.”
    In time, that became “The . . . handsome . . . prince . . . held the . . . beautiful . . . princess . . . in his . . . arms . . . and . . . kissed her.”
    Often, Christopher sat beside Ruby at night and listened to her read until it was too dark for her to see the letters. And they would write sentences back and forth to one another on their slates.
    â€œRuby has a pretty dress . . . I love uncle.”
    Other times, Christopher read aloud to her, which he did as though the eyes of a significant portion of the population of London, if not all of England, were upon him.
    And at times, he gave in to frustration.
    â€œIt is no use,” he said one evening. “I try and I try. I think I can read, and then I cannot. What I read makes no sense. A cow cannot jump over the moon.”
    â€œAnd an old woman does not live in a shoe,” Marie reminded him.
    His face brightened. “Now I remember. It is a ha-ha.”
    And all the while, Ruby was growing older. The winds and tides rose and fell. The earth moved round the sun myriad times.
    Ruby reached a certain age and moved her bed to share a room with Marie instead of Christopher.
    Her blue eyes seemed bluer and her spirit even lighter than before. A prettier face, a more loving heart, never bounded so lightly over the earth. There was such joy in her laugh that the sternest misanthrope would have smiled in her presence. One could not fail to become attached to her. Her charm and grace were enough to make a prison cheerful.
    She wore plain clothes, but had the carriage of a princess when she wore them. Young children clustered at her skirts. Old men and women spoke a friendly greeting when she passed. She