"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "They just drop the H out of sugar, and put in the K in place of the two Gees. I think myself when two words are so much alike as sooker and shoogger it's foolish to make two languages of 'em."
"Tell me something more to eat in French," said Whistlebinkie.
"Fromidge," said the Unwiseman bluntly.
"Fromidge? What's that!" asked Whistlebinkie.
"Cheese," said the Unwiseman. "If you want a cheese sandwich all you've got to do is to walk into a calf—calf is French for restaurant—call the waiter and say 'Un sandwich de fromidge, silver plate,' and you'll get it if you wait long enough. Silver plate means if you please. The French are very polite people."
"But how do you call the waiter?" asked Whistlebinkie.
"You just lean back in a chair and call garkon," said the Unwiseman. "That's what the book says, but I've heard Frenchmen in London call it gas on. I'm going to stick to the book, because it might turn out to be an English waiter and it would be very unpleasant to have him turn the gas on every time you called him."
"I should say so," cried Whistlebinkie. "You might get gas fixturated."
"You never would," said the Unwiseman.