"There is a man comes here to pester Mrs. Swanwick at times. He goes
out of the doors sideways, there, like that fellow in the
water--Monsieur Crab, I call him. He is meek and has claws which are
critical and pinch until madame boils over, and then he gets red like a
crab. That was when Pearl had of Miss Gainor a gold locket and a red
ribbon, and wore it on a day when with Miss Gainor the girl was by evil
luck seen of our Quaker crab.

"But not all are like that. There is one, Israel Morris, who looks like
a man out of those pictures by Vandyke you must have seen, and with the
gentleness of a saint. Were I as good as he, I should like to die, for
fear I could not keep it up. Ah you got a nip. They can bite. It can not
be entirely true--I mean that man's goodness; but it is naturally
performed. The wife is a fair test of humility. I wonder how his virtue
prospers at home."

De Courval listened, again in wonder where had been learned this
English, occasionally rich with odd phrases; for usually Schmidt spoke a
fluent English, but always with some flavor of his own tongue.

The supper amused the young man, who was beginning to be curious and
observant of these interesting and straightforward people. There were at
times long silences. The light give and take of the better chat of the
well-bred at home in France was wanting. His mother could not talk, and
there were no subjects of common interest. He found it dull at first,
being himself just now in a gay humor.

After the meal he ventured to admire the buff-and-gold china in a corner
cupboard, and then two great silver tankards on a sideboard. Mrs.
Swanwick was pleased. "Yes," she said, "they are of Queen Anne's day,
and the arms they carry are of the Plumsteads and Swanwicks."

He called his mother's attention to them. "But," she said, of course in
French, "what have these people to do with arms?"

"Take care," he returned under his breath. "Madame speaks French."

Mrs. Swanwick, who had a fair knowledge of the tongue, quickly caught
her meaning, but said with a ready smile: "Ah, they have had adventures.
When my husband would not pay the war tax, as Friends would not, the
vendue master took away these tankards and sold them. But when the
English came in, Major Andre bought them. That was when he stole
Benjamin Franklin's picture, and so at last Gainor Wynne, in London,
years after, saw my arms on them in a shop and bought them back, and now
they are Margaret's."