Because she was so nervous when they had their midday meal together after ladling out the rice for the children, she asked her aunt,
“Are there any Europeans in Kuching?”
“There is the Rajah and his wife,” Aunt Agatha replied sourly, “but they don’t understand the work that I am doing here and in my opinion he is a man who is not fit for his responsibilities.”
“What do you mean by that?” Bertilla asked.
“I have actually with my own ears heard Sir Charles say that English is an uncouth, barbarous language, hardly worth speaking, and he prefers French or the strange guttural grunts of the Dyaks.”
Aunt Agatha spoke as if French was something unclean and went on,
“You want to know if there are any Europeans? Well, there is a French valet in the Rajah’s service, if you would like to assoc
