I says “Excuse me.  Would you have the kindness sir to make your language as simple as you can?”

“This Englishman unhappy, at the point of death.  This compatrrwiot afflicted,” says the gentleman.

“Thank you sir” I says “I understand you now.  No sir I have not the least idea who this can be.”

“Has Madame Lirrwiper no son, no nephew, no godson, no frrwiend, no acquaintance of any kind in Frrwance?”

“To my certain knowledge” says I “no relation or friend, and to the best of my belief no acquaintance.”

“Pardon me.  You take Locataires?” says the gentleman.

My dear fully believing he was offering me something with his obliging foreign manners,—­snuff for anything I knew,—­I gave a little bend of my head and I says if you’ll credit it, “No I thank you.  I have not contracted the habit.”

The gentleman looks perplexed and says “Lodgers!”

“Oh!” says I laughing.  “Bless the man!  Why yes to be sure!”

“May it not be a former lodger?” says the gentleman.  “Some lodger that you pardoned some rrwent?  You have pardoned lodgers some rrwent?”

“Hem!  It has happened sir” says I, “but I assure you I can call to mind no gentleman of that description that this is at all likely to be.”

In short my dear, we could make nothing of it, and the gentleman noted down what I said and went away.  But he left me the paper of which he had two with him, and when the Major came in I says to the Major as I put it in his hand “Major here’s Old Moore’s Almanac with the hieroglyphic complete, for your opinion.”

It took the Major a little longer to read than I should have thought, judging from the copious flow with which he seemed to be gifted when attacking the organ-men, but at last he got through it, and stood a gazing at me in amazement.

“Major” I says “you’re paralysed.”

“Madam” says the Major, “Jemmy Jackman is doubled up.”

Now it did so happen that the Major had been out to get a little information about railroads and steamboats, as our boy was coming home for his Midsummer holidays next day and we were going to take him somewhere for a treat and a change.  So while the Major stood a gazing it came into my head to say to him “Major I wish you’d go and look at some of your books and maps, and see whereabouts this same town of Sens is in France.”

The Major he roused himself and he went into the Parlours and he poked about a little, and he came back to me and he says, “Sens my dearest madam is seventy-odd miles south of Paris.”

With what I may truly call a desperate effort “Major,” I says “we’ll go there with our blessed boy.”