After a little general conversation between the officers and the old
_commerçant_ the latter suddenly burst out with:--"Ha, what I would like
well to know is, do the Scotch soldiers wear the _pantalons_ or do they
not?" Everyone became instantly alert. I could see _la petite dame bien
mise_ was dying to say something. The two French officers addressed
shrugged their shoulders expressive of ignorance in the matter. After
further discussion, unable to contain herself any longer, _la petite
dame_ leant forward and addressing herself to the _commerçant_, said,
"Monsieur, I assure you that they do _not_!"

The whole carriage "sat up and took notice," and the old _commerçant_,
shaking his finger at her said:

"Madame, if you will permit me to ask, that is, if it is not indiscreet,
how is it that you are in a position to know?"

The officers were enjoying themselves immensely. _La petite dame_
hastened to explain. "Monsieur, it is that my window at Amiens she
overlooks the ground where these Scotch ones play the football, and then
a good little puff of wind and one sees, but of course," she concluded
virtuously, "I have not regarded, Monsieur."

They all roared delightedly, and the old _commerçant_ said something to
the effect of not believing a word. "Be quiet, Monsieur, I pray of you,"
she entreated, "there is an English young girl in the corner and she
will of a certainty be shocked." "_Bah, non_," replied the old
_commerçant_, "the English never understand much of any language but
their own" (I hid discreetly behind my paper).