"But certainly, monsieur! A _cognac_ of the finest excellence."

"Out with it, then! And bring two glasses--no, bring three glasses! You
must drink a toast with us!"

Madame bustled off, laughing and excited, and again the Irishman gripped
the boy's shoulder.

"You've taken me in!" he cried. "Absolutely and entirely taken me in! I
thought you a slip of a boy with a head full of notions, and what do I
find but that it's a little genius I've got! A genius, upon my word! And
here comes the blessed liquor!"

His whole-hearted enthusiasm was like fire, it leaped from one to the
other of his companions. As madame came back, gasping in her haste, he
ran to meet her, and, seizing the brandy and the glasses, drew her with
him to the table.

"Madame, you are a Frenchwoman--therefore an artist. Tell me what you
think of this!"

In his excitement he spoke in English, but madame understood his actions
if not his words. Full of curiosity she bent over the boy's shoulder,
peered into the sketch, then threw up her hands in genuine admiration.

'Ah, but he was an artist, was monsieur! A true artist! It was
delicious--ravishing!' She turned from one of her customers to the
other. 'If monsieur would but put his name to this picture she would
never again have the table washed; and in time to come, when he had made
his big success--'