W. Somerset Maugham (1929) — a man is fired for a weakness, and discovers it was his strength all along
Easier version available: read this lesson at A2/B1 level →
Maugham gives us the whole story in about three thousand words. Read each part, pause for the discussion box, then continue. The ending arrives in a single sentence — do not skip ahead.
There had been a christening that afternoon at St Peter's, Neville Square, and Albert Edward Foreman still wore his verger's gown. For sixteen years he had been verger of this church, and he discharged his duties with quiet dignity. He was a tall, spare man with dignified features, and his face was clean-shaven. In his long black gown he might have been mistaken for a bishop, or at the very least an archdeacon. He took a pride in his work.
But that afternoon the new vicar had asked him to remain behind. The vicar was a red-faced energetic man in the early forties, and Albert Edward still resented the change. He had served three previous vicars and had buried each one with the dignity due to his cloth. This new one was different.
The vicar entered the vestry with two churchwardens and closed the door.
"Foreman, we have something rather painful to say to you. You have been here a great many years and I think his lordship and the wardens will agree with me that you have fulfilled the duties of your office to the satisfaction of everybody concerned."
Albert Edward's heart began to beat a little quicker. There was clearly something wrong.
"But a most extraordinary thing came to my knowledge the other day. I discovered to my astonishment that you could neither read nor write."
The verger's face betrayed no sign of embarrassment.
"The last vicar knew that, sir," he replied. "He said it didn't make no difference. He always said there was a great deal too much education in the world for 'is taste."
The vicar and the wardens exchanged a glance.
"It is the most amazing thing I ever heard. Do you mean to say that you have been verger of this church for sixteen years and never learned to read or write?"
"I went into service when I was twelve, sir. The cook tried to teach me once, but I didn't seem to 'ave the knack for it. And then what with one thing and another I never seemed to 'ave the time."
The vicar drew himself up.
"I cannot allow it. I must ask you to make up your mind to learn. I will give you three months. If at the end of that time you cannot read and write I am sorry, but I shall have to let you go."
Albert Edward had never liked the new vicar. He had said from the beginning that they had made a mistake when they appointed him. He was not the kind of man one wanted at St Peter's, Neville Square.
"I'm very sorry, sir, I'm afraid it's no good. I'm too old a dog to learn new tricks. I've lived a good many years without knowin' 'ow to read and write, and without wishin' to praise myself, self-praise is no recommendation, I don't think I've done my duty in this position any the worse for it. If I could learn now I don't 'ardly think I would."
"In that case, Foreman, I'm afraid you must go."
"Yes, sir, I quite understand. I shall be 'appy to 'and in my resignation as soon as you 'ave found somebody to take my place."
When Albert Edward had locked the church door behind him he walked slowly down the steps with a heavy heart. He did not know what he was going to do. It was true that he had saved a small sum of money, but to live on it he would have to be very careful. He sighed deeply.
Albert Edward was not a smoker. He did not drink beer. But he liked a cigarette with his evening cup of tea, and now he felt the need of one badly. It occurred to him that he had not bought any that morning, and as he had no tobacco in the house he thought he would go out and get some. As he passed shop after shop in search of a tobacconist, he noticed with surprise that there was not one on the whole length of this long street.
"That's strange," said Albert Edward, to put an end to the matter, "I can't be the only man as walks along this street and wants a fag. I shouldn't wonder but what a fellow might do very well with a little shop here. Tobacco and sweets, you know."
He gave a sudden start. The thought struck him like a thunderbolt. He turned, walked home, and had his tea.
"You're very silent this afternoon, Albert," his wife remarked.
"I'm thinkin'," he said.
He considered the matter from every point of view, and next day he went down the street and by good luck found a little shop to let that looked as if it would exactly suit him. Twenty-four hours later he had taken it. A month after that he resigned his post as verger. He set up in business as a tobacconist and news-agent.
The undertaking proved a success. In a year or so he thought he might venture on another shop, and he looked about for a long street that had no tobacconist in it. He started a second shop, then a third. In ten years he had acquired no fewer than ten shops, and he was making money hand over fist. He went round to all of them himself every Monday morning, collected the week's takings, and took them to the bank.
One morning when he was at the bank, the cashier told him that the manager would like to see him. Albert Edward was shown into the office. The manager shook hands with him.
"Mr Foreman, I wanted to have a talk to you about the money you've got on deposit with us. D'you know exactly how much it is? Just over thirty thousand pounds. It's a large sum to have on deposit, and I should have thought you'd do better to invest it."
"I wouldn't want to take no risk, sir. I know it's safe in the bank."
"You needn't have the least anxiety. We'll make you out a list of absolutely gilt-edged securities. They'll bring you in a better rate of interest than we can possibly afford to give you."
A troubled look settled on Mr Foreman's distinguished face.
"I've never 'ad anythin' to do with stocks and shares and I'd 'ave to leave it all in your 'ands," he said.
The manager smiled. "We'll do everything. All you'll have to do next time you come in is just to sign the transfers."
"I could do that all right," said Albert uncertainly. "But 'ow should I know what I was signin'?"
"I suppose you can read," said the manager a trifle sharply.
Mr Foreman gave him a disarming smile.
"Well, sir, that's just it. I can't. I know it sounds funny-like, but there it is. I can't read or write, only me name, an' I only learnt to do that when I went into business."
The manager was so surprised that he jumped up from his chair.
"That's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard."
"You see, it's like this, sir. I never 'ad the opportunity until it was too late, and then somehow I wouldn't. I got obstinate-like."
The manager stared at him as though he were a prehistoric monster.
"And do you mean to say that you've built up this important business and amassed a fortune of thirty thousand pounds without being able to read or write? Good God, man, what would you be now if you had been able to?"
"I can tell you that, sir," said Mr Foreman, a little smile on his still aristocratic features. "I'd be verger of St Peter's, Neville Square."
Ten words from the story that work just as well in your Monday morning meeting. Tap to reveal meaning and a usable business example.
The whole story is built on three voices colliding. Notice how Maugham uses spelling, contractions and word choice to mark each one.
| Character | Register | Marker |
|---|---|---|
| The Vicar | High-Anglican formal | "I think his lordship and the wardens will agree…" |
| The Bank Manager | Professional / measured | "You needn't have the least anxiety." |
| Albert Foreman | Working-class London | "I'm too old a dog to learn new tricks." / dropped 'h's: 'ave, 'ad, 'appy |
Three structures Maugham puts on a plate for us: the third conditional (the ending), reported speech (the firing and the bank scenes), and past perfect (the sixteen years before the story begins).
The ending hangs on a third conditional. The manager says: "What would you be now if you had been able to read?"
Pattern: If + past perfect, would have + past participle. (Counterfactual past — talking about something that did not happen.)
1. If Albert (learn) to read at twelve, he (stay) a verger.
2. If the new vicar (not be) so concerned about literacy, Albert (never open) a shop.
3. If Albert (find) a tobacconist on that street, he (not have) the idea.
4. The manager thinks: "If only you (know) how to read!"
5. If I (be) the vicar, I (keep) Albert on.
1. had learned / would have stayed
2. had not been / would never have opened
3. had found / would not have had
4. had known (wish / regret — "if only" + past perfect)
5. had been / would have kept
Convert Albert's direct speech to reported speech. Watch the tense shift back one step, and the pronoun and time-reference changes.
Direct: The vicar said, "I will give you three months."
Reported: The vicar said he Albert three months.
Direct: Albert replied, "I cannot learn now."
Reported: Albert replied that he learn then.
Direct: The manager said, "I have never heard anything so extraordinary."
Reported: The manager said he anything so extraordinary.
Direct: Albert said, "I went into service when I was twelve."
Reported: Albert said he into service when he twelve.
Direct: The manager asked, "What would you be now if you had been able to read?"
Reported: The manager asked what Albert be then if he able to read.
1. would give (will → would)
2. could not (cannot → could not)
3. had never heard (present perfect → past perfect)
4. had gone … was (past simple → past perfect; "I was" stays past simple in the when-clause)
5. would … had been (third conditional stays unchanged in reported speech — already maximally back-shifted)
The story opens with "For sixteen years he had been verger of this church." That past perfect signals: this is the situation that existed before our story begins.
1. By the time the new vicar arrived, Albert (serve) three previous vicars.
2. Before he opened his first shop, he (save) a small sum of money.
3. When the bank manager called him in, Albert (build) his business up to ten shops.
4. The cook (try) to teach him to read once, but he never picked it up.
1. had served
2. had saved
3. had built
4. had tried
Four moves to spot. They are the reason this story still works in 2026.
From paragraph one, Maugham lets us see Albert's dignity, his sixteen years of service, the bishop-like presence. Then the vicar discovers he's illiterate. The discovery destabilises the vicar's assumptions — but not ours. We were already in on it.
Maugham gives us the firing in a thousand words and the next ten years of business growth in about one hundred. He compresses and distils time around the events that matter.
The vicar speaks in high-Anglican formal English. The bank manager speaks in measured professional English. Albert drops his 'h's and speaks in working-class London. Maugham juxtaposes these registers to do the characterisation for him — we don't need to be told who has the power; we hear it.
The last sentence — "I'd be verger of St Peter's, Neville Square" — reframes the entire story. Up to that point we have read a rags-to-riches tale. After it, we read a story about how literacy can be a cage, how setbacks are doors, how dignity travels with the man rather than the post. The whole text rotates around one sentence.
Now move to the next tab. The technique work above feeds directly into the three speaking tasks.
Do all four. Each one builds on the last. The timer is for your benefit — it forces you to fill the time rather than escape it. Use effect verbs and structures from the previous tabs.
Before we discuss it, tell the story back to me as if I had never read it — in your own words, not line by line. Aim for about eight to ten sentences.
As you go, use at least five words from the Vocabulary tab and keep the events in order using the conditionals and reported speech from the Grammar tab. These beats will help you: a verger of sixteen years · the new vicar discovers he cannot read · given three months, he refuses and resigns · walking home he sees no tobacconist and opens a shop · ten shops and a fortune later, the bank manager asks what he'd be if literate.
Pick a setback from your career — a project that failed, a promotion missed, a deal that fell through, a role you left under pressure. Describe three things, in order:
Use at least one third conditional ("If they had…") and at least three effect verbs from the Technique tab (reframes, recasts, pivots, distils…).
The story's pivot is the bank manager asking: "What would you be now if you had been able to read?"
Imagine yourself in the same scene — but the manager is a colleague, a board member, or a head-hunter. They ask you a counterfactual about your career path that quietly assumes one route would have been better. Answer in Albert's spirit: clearly, without bitterness, with one closing sentence that reframes the question itself.
Set the scene using reported speech ("She asked me whether…"), then deliver your reframe in direct speech.
Albert succeeded because he noticed a gap no one else had spotted — a busy street with no tobacconist on it. In your own field — your industry, your town, or your daily life — what is a real gap that nobody is filling? What need is everyone walking past?
Argue for two minutes that this gap is real. Then for two more, describe what a business or service that filled it might look like, and what kind of person it would take to start it.
Use cleft sentences ("What no one is doing is…" / "It's the X that nobody is solving…") and at least one modal of obligation or prediction ("the industry will have to…" / "someone ought to…").