wear. Ah, mon Dieu, quel
dommage I haf to teach zem."

"I must see about these accounts," said Peggy, picking up a sheaf of
papers and running out. "Stay to dejeuner, Miles."

"Eh, mon ami," cried papa, rising. "My excuses, but ze pigs make me to
be mooch enrage. Zey are ze steef dolls on the Strasburg clock. You
are veil--ah, yis--quite veil cheerup."

The Professor had picked up a number of English slang words with which
he interlarded his conversation. He meant to be kind, and indeed liked
Miles greatly. In proof of his recovered temper, he offered the young
man a pinch of snuff. Jennings hated snuff, but to keep Papa Le Beau in
a good temper he accepted the offer and sneezed violently.

"Professor," he said, when somewhat better, "I have come to ask you
about a lady. A friend of mine has fallen in love with her, and he
thought you might know of her."

"Eh, wha-a-at, mon cher? I understands nozzin'. Ze lady, quel nom?"

"Maraquito Gredos."

"Espagnole," murmured Le Beau, shaking his wig. "Non. I do not know
ze name. Dancers of Spain. Ah, yis--I haf had miny--zey are not steef
like ze cochon Englees. Describe ze looks, mon ami."

Jennings did so, to the best of his ability, but the old man still
appeared undecided. "But she has been ill for three years," added
Jennings. "She fell and hurt her back, and--"

"Eh--wha-a-at Celestine!" cried Le Beau excitedly. "She did fall and
hurt hersilf--eh, yis--mos' dredfil. Conceive to yoursilf, my frien',
she slip on orange peels in ze streets and whacks comes she down. Tree
year back--yis--tree year. Celestine Durand, mon fil."

Jennings wondered. "But she says she is Spanish."

Le Beau flipped a pinch of snuff in the air. "Ah, bah! She no Spain."

"So she is French," murmured Jennings to himself.

"Ah, non; by no means," cried the Frenchman unexpectedly. "She no
French. She Englees--yis--I remembers. A ver' fine and big
demoiselle. She wish to come out at de opera. But she too large--mooch
too large. Englees--yis--La Juive."

"A Jewess?" cried Jennings in his turn.

"I swear to you, mon ami. Englees Jewess, mais oui! For ten months
she dance here, tree year gone. Zen zee orange peels and pouf! I see
her no mores. But never dance--no--too large, une grande demoiselle."

"Do you know where she came from?"

"No. I know nozzin' but what I tell you."

"Did you like her?"

Le Beau shrugged his shoulders. "I am too old, mon ami.