“God forbid,” said Doggie.
Phineas and Mo came strolling towards the kitchen door.
“My two friends, to pay their visit of adieu,” said he.
Jeanne slid from the table and welcomed the newcomers in her calm, dignified way. Once more Doggie found himself regarding her as his senior in age and wisdom and conduct of life. The pathetic girlishness which she had revealed to him had gone. The age-investing ghosts had returned.
Mo grinned, interjected a British Army French word now and then, and manifested delight when Jeanne understood. Phineas talked laboriously, endeavouring to expound his responsibility for Doggie’s welfare. He had been his tutor. He used the word “tuteur.”
“That’s a guardian, you silly ass,” cried Doggie. “He means ‘instituteur.’ Go on. Or, rather, don’t go on. The lady isn’t interested.”
“Mais si,” said Jeanne, catching at the last English word. “It interests me greatly.”
“Merci, mademoiselle,” said Phineas grandly. “I only wish to explain to you that while I live you need have no fear for Doggie. I will protect him with my body from shells and promise to bring him safe back to you. And so will Monsieur Shendish.”
“What’s that?” asked Mo.
Phineas translated.