Paul looked at Jube for assistance, and Jube looked back at him so helpless and confused, in his efforts to recall his very imperfect English, that the boy was obliged to depend upon his own courage and knowledge of the harsh tongue.
"Madame Allen live here?" he asked, while the officer, between astonishment at his grace and foreign accent, only stared the harder, instead of answering.
"Moder to Masser Rice," added Jube, coming to his young master's assistance, and after successfully pronouncing so much in his best English, he rushed into a flood of French, which completed the man's bewilderment.
"Land's sake!" he exclaimed. "What on arth does the critter mean—never heerd such a lingo in all my life!"
"Chut!" whispered Paul to his companion; "he doesn't understand you."
The recollection quite took Jube by surprise. He ceased at once, his mouth gaping wide, and the whites of his eyes displayed in bewildering astonishment.
"We wish Madame Allen," pursued the boy.
"De moder of her son," put in Jube, coming to his senses, and determining to assist his master by every means in his power.
"The widder Allen lives here," replied the man, "if you want her—the Lord knows she near enough crazy, anyhow," he continued, in a lower tone. "But walk in, walk in."