"He's too old for her," said she.
"Too old! Listen, and you'll hear them."
Then he began to coo so funnily and successfully that Palmyre, holding her stomach as if she were griped by colic, said:
"What's come to that fellow Jean to-day? Isn't he funny?"
The forkfuls of grass were being flung up higher and higher, and the stack was steadily growing.
They joked about Lequeu and Berthe, who had eventually sat down. Most likely she was having herself tickled at a respectful distance with a straw. But let the schoolmaster set the pastry to bake as much as he liked, he wouldn't have the eating of it.
"Isn't he dirty!" repeated Palmyre, who couldn't laugh, and was consequently suffocating.
Then Jean chaffed her.
"Don't tell me that you've got to the age of thirty-two and never yet had to do with a young man!"
"Me! Never!"