Bart had carried on for some time an interesting conversation with
smiles and gestures, when he too ventured into audible words.
“Bon!” said he, in an impressive manner; and then touching the
breast of the boy to whom he was speaking, he continued, “You—tu
—you know—you’re bon;” then, laying his hand on his heart, he
said, “me bon;” then, pointing to the cup, “coffee bon;” then
sweeping his hand around, he added, “and all bon—house bon,
company bon, people bon.”
“Ah, oui,” cried the boy. “Oui, je vous comprends. Aha, oui, la
bonne compagnie, le bon peuple—”
“Bon company, bon people, bon company, bon people,” cried Bart,
delighted at his success in getting up a conversation; “bon coffee,
too; I tell you what, it’s the bonnest coffee that I’ve tasted for many
a long day.”
At this the boy looked blank.
“Parley vous Français?” asked Bart, in an anxious tone.
“Oui,” said the boy.
“Well, then, I don’t,” said Bart; “but the moment I get home I
intend to study it.”
And at this stage Bart’s conversation broke down.
Pat chose another mode of accomplishing the same end. Captain
Corbet had been acting on the theory that foreigners were like
babies, and could understand baby talk. Pat, in addition to this,
acted on the theory that they were deaf, and had to be addressed
accordingly. So, as he was refreshing himself with coffee and cakes,
he drew a little nearer to the old woman who had poured it out for
him, and bent down his head. The old woman was at that moment
intent upon her coffeepot, and did not notice Pat. Suddenly Pat, with
his mouth close to her ear, shouted out with a perfect yell,—
“Bully for you! and thank you kindly, marm!”
With a shriek of terror the startled old woman sprang up and fell
backward. The chair on which she had been sitting, a rather rickety
affair, gave way and went down. The old lady fell with the chair