He had already imagined the scene many times; every time, the girl became fascinated
when he explained that the sheep had to be sheared from back to front.
He also tried to remember some good stories to relate as he sheared the sheep.
Most of them he had read in books, but he would tell them as if they were from his personal experience.
She would never know the difference, because she didn’t know how to read.
Meanwhile, the old man persisted in his attempt to strike up a conversation.
He said that he was tired and thirsty, and asked if he might have a sip of the boy’s wine.
The boy offered his bottle, hoping that the old man would leave him alone.
But the old man wanted to talk, and he asked the boy what book he was reading.
The boy was tempted to be rude, and move to another bench, but his father had taught him to be respectful of the elderly.
So he held out the book to the man—for two reasons: first, that he, himself, wasn’t sure how to pronounce the title;
and second, that if the old man didn’t know how to read, he would probably feel ashamed and decide of his own accord to change benches.
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