"You invited me to come down after I'd had my déjeûner, so I came," said the child.
"Right you are, Miss Rosemary," returned the plump girl. "You're such a quaint little body, you're a regular treat. I declare I ain't 'alf sure I wouldn't rather talk to you, than read the Princess Novelettes. Besides, I do get that tired of 'earin' nothin' but French, I'm most sorry I undertook the job; and the Biby don't pick up English much yet."
"Don't you think he's a bright baby?" asked the child, sitting down on a footstool, which was a favourite seat of hers.
"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."