“Don’t know, Pierre,” answered George, and he bounded lightly up-stairs, followed by the four.
“That’s Pierre Dufour, our French chauffeur,” said the boy, when they had entered a room adjoining the hay-loft. “Speaks rather funny English; but I practice my French on him, and how the poor chap stands it I don’t know. Parlez vous Français?”
“Not on your life,” said Jack, with a smile.
“Et moi pas beaucoup, which means I don’t know much either,” said the millionaire boy. “But never mind. Sit down anywhere you can. Honest, it’s funny to have a whole lot of fellows here and not know one of your names. But I’m always doing funny things; Uncle Dan says so, anyway.”
The boys quickly introduced themselves.
“You have a dandy place to work in,” said Jack.
“And such a fine room to sit around and read,” sighed Fred. “Got a lot of books, too.”
“Well, just keep away from ’em for once,” grinned Joe.
“But let’s hear about your trip,” said George, with a slightly impatient gesture. “I’m awfully curious; must be simply great.”
Jack explained, and George’s eyes began to sparkle.