“I no comprehend, monsieur the Colonel,” exclaimed Pierre. “Ees nobody any scamps, eh? Ma foi!”
“Shake Mr. Redfern by the hand, Pierre,” commanded the Colonel. “It was all a misunderstanding.”
“If it hadn’t been for Pierre’s meddling, a great deal of trouble might have been saved,” said George, half-resentfully. “He butted in, and——”
“George—George!” cried Uncle Dan, “I must protest against the use of such slang—such a lack of courtesy. Affairs have turned out happily for all concerned; and this is no time for ill-feeling.”
“I guess you are right, uncle,” admitted George, frankly; and then turning toward the chauffeur, he added, “Everything is all right.”
“All one grand mistake? Ma foi!” said the Frenchman, with the corners of his mouth beginning to curve upward. Then, with a sly glance at Colonel Ellison, whose stern countenance still showed a trace of discomfiture, he extended his hand toward the former tutor. “We shake hand, Monsieur Redfern,” he exclaimed. “I’m sorry I say I would your face smack.”
“It’s all forgotten, Pierre,” laughed Redfern, cordially.
The Frenchman smiled broadly.
“A la bonne heure, Monsieur George!” he cried. “We are friends again. But nevaire you say ‘fired’—‘fired’ to me.” And this time, Pierre Dufour showed that his resentfulness was a thing of the past.
Norman Redfern presently slapped Jack Lyons on the back.