"Then I'm afraid it's rather hard lines on you," Nat remarked. "You'll have to sit still and say nothing all tea-time."
The new girl looked up and for the first time spoke with some warmth in her voice and manner.
"I don't mind that at all. But I'm jolly hungry. Suppose I want some sugar in my tea or some more jam or cake, and it isn't within reach, can't I ask for it?"
"Not in English. Only in French."
"But I can't speak French."
Nat scratched her head in perplexity. "We must think of some way out of the difficulty. I'm afraid I couldn't possibly teach you the French names for everything on the tea-table before tea bell goes. I'll tell you what. You must just say: 'Passez-moi cela, s'il vous plait,' and point to what you want."
The new girl put her head on one side and regarded Nat with a flicker of impish mischief in her face.
"But it's rude to point."
"Then you must manage to point without being rude. Jerk your head or make a graceful gesture. That's the best I can do for you, anyway."
"What is it I have to say."