id little room? I don't believe it!"

"_On le dit._ And down there--see? by the tan-yards, Arlette was washing
clothes when Robert the Devil saw her and fell in love with her."

"Remarkably fine eyesight he must have had to see enough to fall in love
with!"

"Exactly. But that is the story. My mother's father was a tanner down
there somewhere. He was fairly well-to-do for his position, and father
was considered most audacious for aspiring to her hand!"

He laughed tenderly. "My dear old father! I am so proud of him, dear
love, I can't express it at all."

"I know."

"And I am proud of _petite mere_, too. She was so brave and patient
always, and he has led her a sad life at times. They were desperately
poor, for her father left most of his money to his other daughter, who
married Jacques Colibris. You must see my Uncle Jacques, he is quite
delightful--and father was a gambler--and so on. I can myself remember
one morning when he came in and told her he had lost two hundred pounds,
and that was a fortune then."

"She told me about those times," answered Brigit, slowly. "She is very
dear and good."

They were now going slowly down towards the town. It was five o'clock,
and the _concierge's_ children were scampering about, uncombed, as they
passed the cottage.

"We'll go to the Musee and knock up old Malaumain," declared Theo
suddenly. "He won't mind, and she will give us a good _dejeuner_. I
could eat a horse."

"And I a carriage! But why go to a museum for breakfast?"

"It is a _cafe_--old Malaumain is a collector."

"Of what?"

"Of everything. From bird's eggs to souvenirs of Guillaume, whom he
adores. The house is supposed to have been at one time lived in by the
Conqueror, and old Malaumain has made busts of him, and pictures, and
all kinds of things. He will talk to you about _l'Entente cordiale_ and
the crossing of the two races, and the Friendly Hand, until you muzzle
him. He is a dear old chap, and his wife is a very excellent cook. I
used to run away when I was a little kid visiting _grand-mere_, and go
and beg her for sandcakes with the Conqueror's head done on top in
sugar!"

Madame Malaumain, contrary to expectation, appeared at an upper window
at the first knock, came down in a neat white _peignoir_, and after a
quick stare at Theo held out her hand.

"_C'est le petit Joyselle_," she said cordially, "_avec sa future?_"

"Yes--but if you don't give us breakfast, she will die, and then where