Maurice came back by the train arranged. The gyro-car was awaiting him. Behind it stood the yellow motor-car, and Maurice was followed out of the gate by the two foreigners who had travelled by the up train.
“One of those fellows is a Count something or other,” said George as they drove back. “A general too. The village is quite excited about him.”
“British snobbishness!” said Maurice. “They came down in my compartment: don’t know our ways, I suppose.”
“How do you mean?”
“There was another smoker two compartments off, quite empty, but they came in with me: don’t know we prefer to travel alone when we can.”
“British standoffishness!” said George with a smile. “Did they speak to you?”
“Yes. It was rather amusing. They spoke in French about all sorts of subjects, and by and by got on to ‘le cricket,’ as they called it—with the deliberate purpose of attracting my attention, I believe. They talked the most fearful tosh. By-and-by one of them turned to me. ‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he said, in excellent English, ‘but I see that Kent has beaten Yorkshire by three wickets. Will you have the goodness to explain precisely what that means?’”
“What did you say?” asked George.
“Oh! I explained to them that the wickets were three stumps stuck in the ground, and without waiting for any more, the man turned to his companion and said, ‘Eh bien! Je l’ai bien dit. Les vainqueurs rossent les vaincus avec les stomps.’”
“Construe, construe, old man: they didn’t speak French like that at school.”