'Translate as you go along—I do so hate that gabble,' begged Mat, who would not improve her mind.
So Lavinia gave her a free translation which convulsed Amanda behind her paper. Coming to this passage, 'Plusieurs faits graves sont arrivés,' the reader rendered it, 'Several made graves have arrived,' adding, 'Dear me, what singular customs the French have, to be sure!' A little farther on she read, 'Un portrait de feu Monsieur mon père,' adding, 'A fire portrait means a poker sketch, I suppose.'
Here a smothered giggle from Amanda caused the old lady to say 'Bless you!' thinking the dear girl had sneezed.
'I must have some blue cotton to mend my dress with. Remind me to get some at Moulins. By the way, how do you ask for it in French?' said Mat, surveying a rent in her skirts.
'Oh, just go in and say, "Avez-vous le fils bleu?"' replied Lavinia, with a superior air.
'A blue son! My precious granny, what will you say next?' murmured Amanda, faint with suppressed laughter.
'What are you muttering about?' asked Granny, sharply.
'Trying to recall those fine lines in "Wilhelm Meister;" don't you remember? "Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen ass,"' replied Amanda, polite even at the last gasp.
'I read my Goethe in decent English, and don't know anything about training asses,' returned Lavinia, severely.