"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "They admit it themselves. Just look here."
The old gentleman opened his book on French in Five Lessons, and turned to the back pages where English words found their French equivalents.
"See that?" he observed, pointing to the words. "Fish—poison. P-O-I-double S-O-N. 'Taint spelled right, but that's what it says."
"It certainly does," said Mollie, very much surprised.
"Smity good thing you had that book or you might have been poisoned," said Whistlebinkie.
"I don't believe your father knows about that, does he, Mollie?" asked the old man anxiously.
"I'm afraid not," said Mollie. "Leastways, he hasn't said anything to me about it, and I'm pretty sure if he'd known it he would have told me not to eat any."
"Well you tell him with my compliments," said the Unwiseman. "I like your father and I'd hate to have anything happen to him that I could prevent. I'm going up the rue now to the Loover to see the pictures."
"Up the what?" asked Whistlebinkie.
"Up the rue," said the Unwiseman. "That's what these foolish people over here call a street. I'm going up the street. There's a guide down stairs who says he'll take me all over Paris in one day for three dollars, and we're going to start in ten minutes, after I've had a spoonful of my bottled chicken broth and a ginger-snap. Humph! Tabble d'hotes—when I've got a bag full of first class food from New York! I tell you, Mollie, this travelling around in furry countries makes a man depreciate American things more than ever."