"Monsieur Thompe-sonne, how you do you do to-day?"
Jerry whistled softly, and pretended not to hear her, upon which she stood in his light, and, smiling on him, repeated the question.
"Ah! how-de-do, may-dam-moselle?"
"Monsieur Thompe-sonne, will you please be so kind as to tell me vare my malle—my tronke is?"
Jerry looked at his garment, then glanced at the speaker, as much as to imply that he thought her very bold to speak to him when he was engaged in such a business; and, touching his injured arm, informed her that he was on the sick-list.
"Oh, are you sicke, poor theeng? I am varrai sorry. Vill you allow me to attend to you? I vill soon your arm make vell."
Jerry got up, meditating a bolt forward, but the bonne was too clever for him; as upon his rising she placed a hand upon each side of the door, and looking at him in a most affectionate manner, softly repeated, "I am varrai sorry."
Adèle was dressed in a most killing costume, and the effect of her speaking grey eyes upon his susceptible heart resembled that of the sun upon ice; so Jerry stuffed the garment he was holding into his chest, and, approaching her politely, yet half reluctantly, begged she would withdraw, observing that ladies wern't allowed forward.
Seeing that he feared she would get herself in trouble with her mistress, the bonne altered her tactics, and with a sweet smile declared she had no intention of entering his cabin, but that all she required was the loan of a chair; upon hearing which Mr. Thompson lifted out the best one he possessed, and having dusted it, motioned her to take it, after which he retired to his den.