"For a French biby, 'e 's as bright as you could expect," replied her hostess, judicially.
"Are they different?"
"Well, they ain't Hinglish."
"I'm half American," said the little girl.
"You don't talk through your nose. Far as I can see, you've got as good a haccent as me."
"I suppose yours is good?" asked Rosemary, as if she longed to have a doubt set forever at rest.
"Rather! Ain't I been brought out from London on purpose so as this biby can learn to speak Hinglish, instead of French? It's pretty near the sime thing as bein' nursery governess. Madame wouldn't trust her own wye of pronouncing the languidge. She must 'ave a Hinglish girl."
"And she sent for you on purpose?" the child enquired, with increasing respect.
"Well, I was the only one as would come at the price. 'Tain't big wages; but I'm seein' loife. Lor', I come down here with Madame and Mounseer a fortnight ago, and Monte Carlo ain't got many secrets from me. I was a duffer, though, at first. When I 'eerd all them shots poppin' off every few minutes, up by the Casino, I used to think 'twas the suicides a shooting theirselves all over the place, for before I left 'ome, I 'ad a warnin' from my young man that was the kind of goin's on they 'ad here. But now I know it's only the pigeon shooters, tryin' for prizes, and I wouldn't eat a pigeon pie in this 'otel, not if 'twas ever so!"
"Do they ever have them?" asked the little girl, awed.