Rollo listened attentively once or twice to short replies that his new friend made to him, in order to see if he could not distinguish some words in it that he could understand; but he could not; and he finally concluded that it must be some other language than French that the boy was speaking. He was sorry for this; for he could understand short sentences in French pretty well, and could speak short sentences himself in reply. When, however, he tried to speak to the boy in French, he observed that he did not appear to understand him any better than when he spoke in English. This confirmed him in the opinion that the boy must belong to some other nation.
After playing together for some time with the ball, the two boys began to feel quite acquainted with each other. Rollo wished very much to find out his new companion's name; so he asked him, in English,—
"What is your name?"
The boy smiled, and throwing the ball across again to Rollo as he spoke, said something in reply; but it was a great deal too much to be his name. What he said was, when interpreted into English, "My father bought this ball for me, and gave two francs for it."
Then Rollo thought he would try French; so he translated his question, and asked it in French.
"And I am going to carry it with me to Switzerland and Italy," said the boy, speaking still in the unknown tongue.
"That can't be your name, either," said Rollo, "I am very sure."
Then, after a moment's pause, he added, in an eager voice and manner, as if a new idea had suddenly struck him,—
"We are going to the Garden of Plants—uncle George, and Jennie, and I; wouldn't you like to go, too?"
The boy smiled, and held out his hands for Rollo to roll the ball to him, saying something at the same time which to Rollo seemed totally unmeaning.