start, went headlong at our friends, seated them at a table, and put
fifteen many-coloured soups before them, in little silver bowls, and as
many wines in crystal vases.

"Nay, father, let us not eat until we have thanked our good friend,"
said Margaret, now first recovering from all this bustle.

"Girl, he is our guardian angel."

Gerard put his face into his hands.

"Tell me when you have done," said he, "and I will reappear and have
my supper, for I am hungry. I know which of us three is the happiest at
meeting again."

"Me?" inquired Margaret.

"No: guess again."

"Father?"

"No."

"Then I have no guess which it can be;" and she gave a little crow of
happiness and gaiety. The soup was tasted, and vanished in a twirl
of fourteen hands, and fish came on the table in a dozen forms, with
patties of lobster and almonds mixed, and of almonds and cream, and an
immense variety of brouets known to us as rissoles. The next trifle was
a wild boar, which smelt divine. Why, then, did Margaret start away from
it with two shrieks of dismay, and pinch so good a friend as Gerard?