“Do all pigs grow fat when they are old?” she asked.
“Nay, lass, that they don’t. We feed ’em te mak’ ’em fat while they’re young, but some pigs are skinny ’uns always.”
Mrs. Saumarez smiled indulgently at this passage between two such sharp-tongued combatants. Angèle’s eyes blazed. Françoise, eating steadily, wondered what had been said to make the women laugh, the child angry.
Angèle caught the astonished expression on the nurse’s face. Quickly her mood changed. Françoise sat near. She bent over and whispered:
“Tiens, nanna! Voici une vieille truie qui parle comme nous autres!”
Françoise nearly choked under a combination of protest and bread crumbs. Before she could recover her breath at hearing Mrs. Summersgill described “an old sow who talks like one of us!” Angèle cried airily to Martin:
“Take me to the stables. I haven’t seen the pony and the dogs for days and days.”
He was glad to escape. He dreaded Mrs. Summersgill’s mordant humor if a war of wits broke out between her and the girl.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll whistle for Curly and Jim at the back and join you at the gate.”
But Angèle skipped lightly toward her hostess.