"To be sure! to be sure!" said John consolingly, "and you see there were no signs of anything of the kind about the Bishop."
"Then there is the food," Miss Toosey went on, reminded of the subject by a whiff of roast mutton from the kitchen; "I'm afraid they are cannibals, and I don't think I ever could get used to such a thing, for I have never been able to touch sucking pig since an uncle of mine said it was just like a baby, though of course he was only in joke."
John reassured her on this point. But now he presented quite a new difficulty to her mind.
"Do you understand the Nawaub language? I am told it is difficult to acquire."
It had never occurred to Miss Toosey that these mysterious people, who were a sort of combination of monkey and chimney sweep, spoke a language of their own which she could not understand, and that they might not be able to comprehend the pure Somersetshire English with which she meant to convert them. She had never been brought much in contact with foreigners, so that she had never realized fully the effect of the Tower of Babel. One day a French beggar had come to the door, and Miss Toosey had summoned up courage to pronounce the magic words, "Parlez vous Francais," which was one of the sentences she had learned at Miss Singers's; and the beggar (the French being proverbially quick-witted) had recognized his native tongue; and thereupon ensued such a torrent of rapid speech and violent gesticulation, such gabbling and grimacing that Miss Toosey was quite frightened, and relapsed into plain English when she could edge in another word. But then this impudent fellow pretended he did not understand, and kept on saying, "Not know de English vot you mean," though Miss Toosey spoke slowly and very loud, and even finally tried a little broken English, which must be easier to foreigners than the ordinary style of speaking. But the man was obstinate, and went away at last shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders in a way which Miss Toosey felt was very impudent; "but then, poor creature, he may have been a papist."
"I've not thought about that, Mr. John; but I know that savages always like beads and looking-glasses, though what pleasure such remarkably plain people can get out of a looking-glass I can't imagine. But I've a lot of beads put away in one of my boxes up-stairs when I've time for a regular good turn-out; and as for looking-glasses, I saw some the other day at Gaiter's, with gilt frames, for a penny, that make one's nose look crooked, and one eye larger than the other, that I think will do nicely."
"By Jove!" says John, "an uncommonly good idea—the very thing! I'll take a look at them as I go home, which I must do now, or I shall be late for lunch."
But before leaving he advised her not to do anything in a hurry, but before taking any decided step, such as having her dress starched, or giving notice to leave her house, or laying in a stock of looking-glasses, to consult some old friend, on whose opinion she could rely.
"There's Mackenzie," he said, "why not go to him?"
But Miss Toosey had an uncomfortable feeling about lawyers, connecting them with verses in the gospels beginning with "woe;" and though the little Mackenzies were her great friends and constant visitors, she avoided their father. She suggested Miss Baker; but when she added that she was "a really Christian person," John discouraged the idea, and they finally agreed that she should consult Mr. Peters, who had known her nearly all her life.