front of the house poultry used to run through the quiet street, and František often enjoyed himself heartily with them. That day there were on promenade a number of turkey hens which František had never seen before in his life. He stood still and gazed at them in rapture. Ere long, František was squatting down among them and was carrying on important discourses with them. He forgot about his dinner and about school, and when the children at the afternoon session told that František was playing with the turkey hens instead of going to school the schoolmaster sent the school maid-servant to bring him. At the examination František received nothing, and the schoolmaster told his mother to attend to him more severely, that he was already a regular rascal.
And in reality František was a thorough rascal. In the parish school he sat beside the son of the inspector and used to go home with him, hand in hand. They used to play together at the inspector’s house. František was permitted to rock the youngest child, and for that he would get a little white pot of coffee for lunch. The inspector’s son always had beautiful clothes and a white, stiffy starched collar. František wore clean clothes, to be sure, but they were abundantly patched. For that matter, it never occurred to him that he was dressed any differently than the inspector’s son. One day after school the teacher paused beside the two boys, patted the inspector’s son on the cheek and said: “See, Conrad, what a fine boy you are,
