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"Yesseh," said Narcisse, "now since you 'ave wemawk the mention of it, I think I have saw that va'iety of bwead." "Oh, surely you poundt to a-seedt udt. A uckly little prown dting" "But cook well," said Narcisse. "Yayss," drawled the baker. It was a fact that he had to admit. "An' good flou'," persisted the Creole. "Yayss," said the smiling manufacturer. He could not deny that either.
"Vell, now, I yoost pet finfty tawllars tat iss Mississ Reisen sendts for you tat I'm sick! Ven udt iss not such a dting!" He laughed immoderately. "Ovver I'm gladt you come, Toctor, ennahow, for you pin yoost in time to see ever'ting runnin'. I vish you yoost come undt see udt!" He grinned in his old, broad way; but his face was anxious, and his bared arms were lean.
The ear caught distantly, instead of its notes, the warlike thunder of the drum corps. The sharper man nudged his companion mysteriously. "Listen," he whispered. Neither they nor the other pair had materially changed their relative positions. The older woman was speaking. "'Twas te fun'est dting!
Reisen, he alvays callss me 'Mister, undt tat iss one dting in puttickly vot I alvays tit li-i-iked apowdt Mr. Richlun, 'Mr.
"You toandt kott enna verte to sendt to Mr. Richlun, Toctor!" "Yes. Tell him to come and pass an hour with me some evening in my library." The German lifted his hand in delight. "Vy, tot's yoost teh dting! Mr. Richlun alvayss pin sayin', 'I vish he aysk me come undt see um; undt I sayss, 'You holdt shtill, yet, Mr.
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