Mrs. Duff, holding her by one hand, said to Dallas, "This is my dear friend Madame de Valkonski."
The boy bowed and offered his seat to this little lady, who sat down and looked at him attentively.
"So this is thy son," she said. "Does he understand French?"
Mrs. Duff blushed and made a helpless gesture. "Alas! I know so little about him. My son, canst thou speak French?"
"Not very well," he said. "I can speak better than I can understand."
"But you must learn to understand," said the lady with a pretty air of authority. "Every boy and girl should know French, especially here in this wonderful Canada. In my country—but do you know what my country is?"
"No, Madame," said my master.
"It is Russia—in that country we all learn French as children. If we speak to our parents in Russian they ask us to repeat the phrase in French."
The boy's face glowed. "Oh! Madame," he said, "if you are Russian will you speak to Bolshy?"