“Yarse,” replied Billy, feeling his trifling moustache after its dip in the cup.
“Thought so,” rejoined Sir Moses, who prided himself upon his penetration. “I’ll have a word with him when he comes in again,” continued he.
Tea followed quickly on the heels of coffee, Monsieur coming in after Bankhead. Monsieur now consequentially drank, and dressed much in the manner that he is in the picture of the glove scene at Yammerton Grange.
“Ah, Monsieur! comment vous portez-vous?” exclaimed the Baronet, which was about as much French as he could raise.
“Pretty middlin’, tenk you, sare,” replied Jack, bowing and grinning at the compliment.
“What, you speak English, do you?” asked the Baronet, thinking he might as well change the language.
“I spake it, sare, some small matter, sare,” replied Jack, with a shrug of his shoulders—“Not nothing like my modder’s tongue, you knows.”
“Ah! you speak it domd well,” replied Sir Moses. “Let you and I have a talk together. Tell me, now, were you ever out hunting?”
Jean Rougier. “Oh, yes, sare, I have been at the chasse of de small dicky-bird—tom-tit—cock-robin—vot you call.”
Sir Moses (laughing). “No, no, that is not the sort of chace I mean; I mean, have you ever been out fox-hunting?”