“And it all smashed up, and they began talking like a crowd of tourists?”
“Something like that,” we agreed.
“Then, don’t you see,” went on Cruikshank, finding his feet once more. “Then they all separated, went into different countries, and when they saw a cow in France they called it vache—it’s quite simple.”
“Oh, yes, I see that part of it,” said Bellwattle. You have only to say to a woman—and moreover be it in the proper tone of voice—that a thing is quite simple and she will see it through and through. I have known Bellwattle understand a proposition of Euclid by telling her it was quite simple.
As I say, “If that point is the centre of this circle, all lines drawn from that point to the circumference must be equal; that’s quite simple, isn’t it?”
And she has replied, “Oh—quite—I see that—but who says it’s the centre?”
If I say Euclid, she then asks me if I believe everything which people tell me.
In this manner she saw Cruikshank’s point about the people in France calling a cow vache. But after seeing it, she was silent for a long time. She was giving it due consideration. I knew that another question was to come. At last she looked up.
“But can you explain,” said she, “how they happened to hit upon the same animal? I know vache means cow, but how did the people in France know that it should be that particular animal that they were to call vache? They might have called a pig vache, and then we should all have been topsy-turvy.”
I ran my fingers through my hair.