‘Oui, oui,’ he said in his Canadian French, ‘c’est vrai. Réunion régulaire.’
‘Mais qu’elle idée, donc!’
‘Il est le président,’ said Toby indignantly, pointing with a jam sandwich.
‘Voilá vous êtes!’ he exclaimed. ‘There you are! Je suis le président!’ and he helped himself to more cake as though by accident.
For five seconds Mlle. Fleury kept her face. Then, in spite of herself, her lips parted and a row of white teeth appeared.
‘Meester Reevairs, you spoil them,’ she said, ‘and I approve it not. Mais, voyons donc! Quelles maniéres!’ she added as Sambo and Pouf passed from Toby’s lap on to the table and began to sniff at the water cress.... ‘Non, ça c’est trop fort!’ She leaned across to smack them back into propriety.
‘Abominable,’ Paul cried, ‘abominable tout à fait.’
‘Alwaze when you come such things ’appen.’
‘Pas mon faute,’ he said, helping to catch Pouf.
‘They are deeficult enough without that you make them more,’ she said.