'What did monsieur desire?' The waiter stood anxiously attentive, his
head inclining gravely to one side, his dirty napkin swinging from his
left hand.

The boy glanced up.

'What could the Hôtel Railleux offer?'

The waiter met his eye steadfastly. 'Anything that monsieur cared to
order.'

The boy encountered the steadfast look, and a little gleam of humor shot
into his eyes.

'Well, then, to begin with, should they say _Sole Waleska_?'

The waiter's glance wavered, he threw the weight of his body from one
foot to the other. Involuntarily madame looked up.

The boy buried himself behind an expression of profound seriousness.

"Yes! _Sole Waleska_! Or, perhaps, _Coulibiac à la Russe!"_

The waiter's mouth opened in a desperate resolve to meet the worst.
Madame's eyes discreetly sought her plate.

The boy threw back his head and laughed aloud at his own small jest.
"Bring me two eggs _en cocotte_," he substituted, and laughed again in
sheer pleasure at the waiter's sudden smile, his sudden restoration to
dignity, as he hurried away to put a seal upon an order that permitted