THE LANGUAGE FOR LOGIC.
"Very well," I said, "if Jones is laid up I'll go round myself."
Our French visitor chuckled quietly and then shrugged his shoulders by way of apology.
"Pardon," he murmured with the most disarming politeness, "but your English language it is so veray funny, and I 'ave not yet become quite used to it. Is it not that it lack the accuracy, what you call the logic, of the French?"
"Indeed," I said, without the least interest.
But my wife was all enthusiasm. She clapped her hands in delighted agreement. "M. du Val is quite right, Dickie," she said. "We are a frightfully illogical lot, aren't we? I mean, the French are able to say just exactly what they mean."
"Your reinforcement, Madame, it completes my victory," replied the Frenchman with a graceful gesture. "Voyez, M'sieu'," he added, turning to me, "you 'ave just said zat your friend is laid up, when the unfortunate truth is zat he is laid down, and because of zat you will encircle, surround, make a tour of your person."
"There, you see," said my wife flatly, "it's all utterly illogical. Think how logical the French are."
"Well, let us work it out," I said in hearty agreement. "As a start I solemnly declare that the French are not so logical as they don't think."
"As they don't think?" repeated my wife in surprise.