r
suggestion. Was the child's mother--that other natural protector of
the child, who had died or deserted her--Nancy tried not to wonder too
much which it was that she had done,--an Irish girl, or was Collier
Pratt himself of that romantic origin?

"_Oui_, Mademoiselle, I mean, yes, thank you. I do not think I will
say to you Miss Martin. We only say their names like that to the
people with whom we are not _intime_. We are _intime_ now, aren't we,
now that I have been so very sick _chez vous_? In Paris the
_concierge_ had a daughter that I called Mademoiselle Cherie, and we
were _very intime_. I think I would like to call you Miss Dear in
English after her."

"I should like that very much," Nancy said.

"I am glad the sick gentleman is called Gaspard. So many _messieurs_--I
mean gentlemen in Paris are called Gaspard, and hardly any in the
United States of America. American things are very different from
things in Paris, don't you think so, Miss Dear?"

"I'm afraid they are," Nancy acquiesced gravely.

"I'm afraid they are too," the child said, "but afraid is what I try
not to be of them. My father says America is full of beasts and
devils, but he does not mind because he can paint them."

"Do you live in a studio?" Nancy asked after a struggle to prevent
herself from asking the question. She felt that she had no right to
any of the facts about Collier Pratt's existence that he did not
choose to volunteer for himself.

"Yes, Miss Dear, but not like Paris. There we had a door that opened
into a garden, and the birds sang there, and I was allowed to go and
play. Here we have only a fire-escape, and the _concierge_ is only a
janitor and will not allow us to keep milk bottles on it. I do not
like a janitor. _Concierges_ have so much more _politesse_. Now, no
one takes care of me when father goes out, or brings me soup or
_gateaux_ when he forgets."

"Does he forget?" Nancy cried, horrified.

"Sometimes. He forgets himself, too, very often except dinner. He
remembers that because he likes to come to this Outside Inn
restaurant, where the cooking is so good. He brought me here to-day
because it was my birthday. I think the cooking is very good except
that I was so sick of eating it, but father swore to-day that it was
not."

"Swore?"

"He said damn. That is not very bad swearing. I think _nom de Dieu_ is
worse, don't you, Miss Dear?"

"I'm going to take you up in my arms," said Nancy with sudden passion.
"I w