Your friend mad about anything? He don't seem to open his head more'n
he's obliged to. I presume he don't approve of your taking up with me
and Father--he keeps away from us considerable, I notice.

_Podb._ (_awkwardly_). Oh--er--I wouldn't say that, but he's a queer
kind of chap rather, takes prejudices into his head and all that. I
wouldn't trouble about him if I were you--not worth it, y' know.

_Miss T._ Thanks--but it isn't going to shorten my existence any.

[_CULCH. overhears all this, with feelings that may be
imagined._

_Belgian Driver_ (_to his horses_). Pullep! Allez vîte! Bom-bom-bom!
Alright!

_Conductor_ (_to CULCHARD_). 'E's very proud of 'is English, _'e_ is.
'Ere, JEWLS, ole feller, show the gen'lm'n 'ow yer can do a swear.
(_Belgian Driver utters a string of English imprecations with the
utmost fluency and good-nature._) 'Ark at 'im now! Bust my frogs!
(_Admiringly, and not without a sense of the appropriateness of the
phrase._) But he's a caution, Sir, ain't he? _I_ taught him most o'
what he knows!

_A French Passenger_ (_to Conductor_). Dis done, mon ami, est-ce qu'on
peut voir d'ici le champ de bataille?

_Conductor_ (_with proper pride_). It ain't no use your torkin to
_me_, Mossoo; I don't speak no French myself. (_To CULCHARD._) See
that field there, Sir?