travelling incognito, do you see, but, so far as the U.S. Senate is
concerned, I haven't got it with me."

"Well, sir, I won't mention it again. But all the same, if I may be
allowed to say so, I am pleased to meet you, sir--very pleased. I
suppose they wired you that Mike McConnell's got the Post Office."

Poppa held out his hand in an instant of speechless gratitude. "Sir," he
said, "they did not. Put it there. I said no wires and no letters, and
I've been sorry for it ever since. Momma," he continued, "daughter,
allow me to present to you Mr.?--Mr. Malt, who has heard by cablegram
that our friend Mr. McConnell is Postmaster-General of Chicago."

Momma was grateful, too, though she expressed it somewhat more
distantly. Momma has a great deal of manner with strangers; it sometimes
completely disguises her real feeling toward them. I was also grateful,
though I merely bowed, and kicked the Senator under the table. Nobody
would have guessed from our outward bearing the extent to which our
political fortunes, as a family, were mixed up with Mike McConnell's.
Mr. Malt immediately said that if there was anything else he could do
for us he was at our service.

"Well," said poppa, "I suppose there's a good deal of intrinsic interest
in this town--relics of Napoleon, the Bon Marché, and so on--and we've
got to see it. I must say," he added, turning to momma, "I feel
considerably more equal to it now."

"It will take you a good long week," said Mr. Malt earnestly, "to begin
to have an idea of it. You might spend two whole days in the Louvre
itself. Is your time limited?"