Adela,
fresh from her Paris school had all her French, of the best kind too,
at her tongue's end, but she seemed to get on no better than Mr. King.
"My French is just bad enough to be useful," laughed Jasper. So he
untangled the trouble again, and made Adela see that she really must
not pull at her bridle, but allow the donkey to go his own gait, for
they were all trained to it.
"Your French is just beautiful," cried Polly. "Oh, Jasper, you know
Monsieur always says--"
"Don't, Polly," begged Jasper, in great distress.
"No, I won't," promised Polly, "and I didn't mean to. But I couldn't
help it, Jasper, when you spoke against your beautiful French."
"We've all heard you talk French, Jasper, so you needn't feel so cut up
if Polly should quote your Monsieur," cried Tom, who, strange to say,
no matter how far he chanced to ride in the rear, always managed to
hear everything.
"That's because we are everlastingly turning a corner," he explained,
when they twitted him for it, "and as I'm near the end of the line I
get the benefit of the doubling and twisting, for the front is always
just above me. So don't say anything you don't want me to hear, old
fellow," he sang out to Jasper on the bridle path "just above," as Tom
had said.
"Now, don't you want to get off?" cried Jasper, deserting his donkey,
and running up to Phronsie, as they reached the summit and drew up
before the hotel.
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