Читать книгу Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in France and Belgium. Or, Saving the Fortunes of the Trouvilles онлайн

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“Ask the woman for a pair of shears,” suggested Henri, “and cut away the sleeve.”

“Hi, there!” called Billy to the old woman, who had risen from the basket seat, but still all of a tremble.

“Get her here,” urged Henri. “I can make her understand.”

Billy, bowing and beckoning, induced the woman to approach.

Henri, politely:

“Madame, j’ai ete blesse. Est-ce que nous restons ici?” (Madam, I have been wounded. Can we rest here?)

“Je n’ecoute pas bien. J’appelerai, Marie.” (I do not hear good. I will call Marie.)

With that the old woman hobbled away, and quickly reappeared with “Marie,” a kindly-eyed, fine type of a girl, of quite superior manner.

Henri questioned: “Vous parlez le Français?” (You speak French?)

“Oui, monsieur; j’ai demeure en le sud-est.” (Yes, monsieur; I have lived in the southeast.)

The girl quickly added, with a smiling display of a fine row of teeth: “And I speak the English, too. I have nursed the sick in London.”

“Glory be!” Billy using his favorite expression. “Get busy!”