Bourcelles was not fashionable; no one ever had appendicitis there.
Yet ailments of a milder order were the staple, inexhaustible subjects
at meals. Instead of the weather, _mon estomac_ was the inexhaustible
tale. The girl brought in the little Cantonal newspaper, and the widow
read out selections in a high, shrill voice, regardless who listened.
Misfortunes and accidents were her preference. _Grand ciel_ and
_quelle horreur_ punctuated the selections. 'There's Tante Jeanne
grand-cieling as usual,' Mother would say to her husband, who, being a
little deaf, would answer, 'What?' and Tante Jeanne, overhearing him,
would re-read the accident for his especial benefit, while the
governesses recounted personal experiences among themselves, and Miss
Waghorn made eager efforts to take part in it all, or tell her little
tales of fairies and Cornish cream....
One by one the governesses rose to leave; each made a comprehensive
bow that included the entire company. Daddy lit a cigarette or let
Jimbo light it for him, too wumbled with his thoughts of afternoon
work to notice the puff stolen surreptitiously on the way. Jane Anne
folded her napkin carefully, talking with Mother in a low voice about
the packing of the basket with provisions for tea. Tea was included in
the Pension terms; in a small clothes-basket she carried bread, milk,
sugar, and butter daily across to La Citadelle, except on Sundays when
she wore gloves and left the duty to the younger children who were
less particular.
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