It wasn’t, Granny, because he went to sleep often; I could have kept him awake by kicking him under the table.  Joseph stopped suddenly and looked from one to the other.  Why then? his father asked, and on being pressed to say why he didn’t want to learn Hebrew he said he had come to hate Hebrew, an admission which rendered his parents speechless for a moment.  Come to hate Hebrew, they repeated one after the other till frightened by their solemnity Joseph blurted out:  you wouldn’t like Hebrew if the scholar’s fleas jumped on to you the moment you began.  And pulling up his sleeves Joseph exhibited his arms.  How could I learn Hebrew with three fleas biting me and all at one time, one here, another there and a third down yonder.  He always has three or four about him.  No, Father, don’t, don’t ask me to learn Hebrew any more.  But, Joseph, all Hebrew scholars haven’t fleas about them.  An unbelieving face confronted them, and Joseph looked as if he were uncertain whether he should laugh or cry:  but seeing that his parents liked his story he began to laugh.  We’ve tried several preceptors but you’re hard to please, Joseph.  Now what fault did you find with—­and while Dan searched his memory for the name Joseph interjected that the little fellow whose back bulged like Granny’s chest wouldn’t let him read the interesting parts of the Scriptures but kept him always at the Psalms and the Proverbs.  And he was always telling me about Hillel, who was a good man, but good men aren’t as interesting as prophets, Joseph rapped out.  And wilt thou tell us what he told thee about these pious men?  Dan asked, a smile playing about his long thin mouth.  That the law didn’t matter as long as we were virtuous, Joseph muttered, and he was always explaining the stories that I understood quite well when Granny told them.  So it was Hiram that confirmed you in your distaste for Hebrew, Dan said, and the child stood looking at his father, not quite sure if it would be in his interest to accept or repudiate the suggestion.  He would have refused to give a direct answer (such is the way of children) but the servant relieved him of his embarrassment:  Azariah was at the gate asking for shelter from the rain.

From the rain!  Dan said, rising suddenly.  It is coming down very fast, Mother, but we were so engaged in listening to Joseph that we didn’t hear it.  Shall we ask him in, Joseph?  The child’s face lighted up.  Now isn’t it strange, Rachel said, he should be here to-day?  We haven’t seen him for months, and now in the middle of a talk about tutors—­aren’t you going to ask him in?  Of course, Dan said, and he instructed the servant to ask the scribe to come upstairs.  And now, Joseph, I hope you’ll listen to all that Azariah says, giving quiet and reasonable answers.  And not too many questions, mind!