CONCERNING FANCIES AND FRENCH.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 23, 28 January 1928, Page 2 (Supplement)

CONCERNING FANCIES AND FRENCH.

(Sent in by Sheila Quinn, Dominion Road, age 14.)',

It waa a glorious day—a wonderful day. In the blue heavens above Father Sun beamed brightly down on Mother Earth and the whole world smiled.

As I said, it was a glorious day, and I was greatly enjoying myself, being one of a merry party of picnickers bound for Pine Island. The boat glided over the waters and I, squeezed between two very fat women, smiled blissfully round on the whole world in general and nobody in particular. Suddenly there came an interruption in the form of an exceedingly thin women who came rushing along the deck like one possessed. We gazed at her in mild surprise, it not being an exactly usual sight to see a person frantically waving his arms about and tearing along the deck of a picnic launch.

However, there was another surprise in store for ue, for the woman came to a stand in front of us, and began talking. Talking, did I say? Jabbering would be a better word, for she went on speaking at a terrific rate in Bome unknown language like—like—but words fail me. The picnickers round about were more than mildly surprised now. They were exceedingly surprised.

"Perhaps she speaks a foreign language." on* person ■uggested helpfully.

"Ah, yes! Of course," an elderly gentleman answered. "German perhaps. Can anyone speak German?" Nobody could, and it was in the awkward paust that followed when everybody was waiting for somebody else to speak that I had a happy brainwave. With some difficulty I squeezed myself from between my two fat neighbours and rose to my feet in a dignified manner.

"The lady is speaking French," I said, in what I considered a very learned tone. "Fortunately I am able to speak that language." (Having had two months' French at school I had no doubt as to my proficiency in that direction.) Then, followed by the admiring glances of all the people around, I advanced towards the woman, who was still performing weird antics on the deck.

"Bonjour, Madame. Paries-tu francais?" I chanted.

The woman took no heed, in fact, her actions became quite alarming.

"Madame, que venez-vous faire ici ?" I continued smoothly. Again she took no heed, but began capering up and down the deck once more.

Nothing daunted, I waited until she stopped for breath and then continued.

"Vas-tu a la plage? Nous aurions nn beau jour." Then, for the first time, she stopped and noticed me. Noticed me? Yes, noticed me a little too much, for with another volley of strange words she practically flew at me. In a moment all was confusion. However, just then the captain appeared, and after a few minutes' conversation with the woman led her away. "That French woman doesn't know much about her own language" I was indignantly beginning when the Captain returned one* more. •

"A very sad case," he said solemnly, shaking his head. "Quite dangerously mad, you know. Speaks some kind of gibberish all the time. Very sad. Very sad indeed," and he walked off, still shaking his head. But fate intervened, and I was spared the terrible humiliation that was bound to follow this speech of the captain's.

The rain (bless it) came down in torrents. Oh, joy! Rain, rain, rain! In the bustle and confusion that followed I sat on deck in the rain, left alone to my own bitter thoughts. French! Pooh! An idiotic language! Idiotic! °