"I can't be drafted.

My poor mother wasn't married, and I was born in a field.
I'm a son of the 'airth,' as grandpa says.

M'ma saved me from the army, that she did! My name ain't no more Mouche than nothing at all.

Grandpa keeps telling me all my advantages.

I'm not on the register, and when I'm old enough to be drafted I can go all over France and they can't take me." "Are you fond of your grandfather ?" said the countess, trying to look into the child's heart.
"My! doesn't he box my ears when he feels like it! but then, after all, he's such fun; he's such good company! He says he pays himself that way for having taught me to read and write." "Can you read ?" asked the count.
"Yah, I should think so, Monsieur le comte, and fine writing too--just as true as we've got that otter." "Read that," said the count, giving him a newspaper.
"The Qu-o-ti-dienne," read Mouche, hesitating only three times.
Every one, even the abbe, laughed.
"Why do you make me read that newspaper ?" cried Mouche, angrily.