“You did not find that so very hard, did you,” inquired Annie, with a smile; “how long had you to do it?”
“Why, quite three weeks, last time I was there.”
“Dear me, but could you not find any one to cook?”
“As a matter of fact, there was a man with me, but he was so dirty I would not let him cook, and my interpreter pretended he couldn’t.”
“I really do not think you were so badly off with two men,” remarked Annie, “unless, of course, you had any real discomforts.”
“Yes, but I had, though. One night I got drenched, and had to have my clothes dried at the canteen fire; never travel without a portable stove. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and get a change and hot bath, I’m so dusty, don’t you know.”
“Well,” said Annie, as soon as he had gone, “‘Mr. Matter-of-fact don’t you know,’ has a pretty good opinion of himself and his personal comforts, I should think, with his short answers, too; what do you think, mother.”
“My dear, I don’t like your talking in that light way about him, he is evidently a gentleman of good education and talents, and we know that he comes of a good family. We have seen little of him as yet, I’ve no doubt but what he speaks Fren—, no, I mean I daresay you will like him when you know him better, you must take him in hand a little.”
“Me!” answered Annie, in a tone of scorn, “me take him in hand! No thank you; my opinion is, that at his best he’s an amusing fop—what a funny-looking little creature he is. But don’t you think, my dear mother, that you are rather too fond of being taken with strangers directly you see them? remember that wretched sham Frenchman.”
“Yes, yes, my dear; there, you know I never can abide an argument, but only remember that Mr. Fulrake is a thorough-bred English gentleman.”