I nodded my head, and then proceeded to give him the hundred-and-one
messages that I had received from the little old lady as soon as she
discovered that I knew her son.

"It is so long since I 'ave seen 'er," said Monsieur Joseph, blowing his
nose violently. "So 'ard I work in London these ten, fifteen years that
only once have I gone 'ome since my father died."

Then I told him how bent and old his mother was, and how lonesome she
had seemed all by herself in the cottage, and as I spoke of the shop
which she still kept going in her front-room the tears fairly rained
down his face.

"But, M'sieur," said he, "that which you tell me is indeed strange; for
those letters which she writes to me week by week are always gay, and it
'as seemed to me that my mother was well content."

Then he struck his fist on the table. "I 'ave it," he said. "She shall
come to live 'ere with me in Londres. All that she desires shall be
'ers, for am I not a rich man?"

I shook my head. "She would never leave her village now," I told him.
"And I know well that she desires nothing in the world except to see you
again."

Then as I rose to go, "Good night, M'sieur," said Joseph a little sadly.
"Be very sure that there is always a welcome for you 'ere."

The next time that I dined at the Mazarin was some four weeks later, on