"A wonderful place, Paris, when all's said and done!" murmured the
Irishman, drawing in a long, luxurious breath of smoke. "How an English
restaurant-keeper would stare you out of countenance if you demanded a
modest cup of coffee when he had luncheon for you to eat! But here,
bless you, they acknowledge the rights of man. If you want coffee,
coffee you must have--and that with the best grace in the world, lest
your self-esteem be hurt! They're like my people at home: consideration
for the individual is the first thing. It means nothing, a Saxon will
tell you, and probably he's quite right; but I'd sooner have a
pleasant-spoken sinner any day than a disagreeable saint. Ah, here comes
madame!" The last words he added in French, and the boy watched him in
amused wonder as he jumped to his feet and, meeting their hostess at the
kitchen door, insisted upon taking the tray from her hands.

Laughing, excited, and flattered, the little woman followed him to the
table.

'It was really too much! Monsieur was too kind!'

'On the contrary! It was not meant that woman should wait upon man!
Madame had accomplished her share in making this most excellent coffee!'

He sniffed at the steaming pot with the air of a connoisseur.

Madame laughed again, this time self-consciously. 'Well, her coffee had
been spoken of before now! Monsieur, her husband, who was quite a
_gourmet_--'

'Always declared there was no such coffee in all Paris! Was not that