"I don't need to tell any American the market value of it," said poppa
smiling.

"Then you can't do better than go straight to the Louvre. I'd be pleased
to accompany you, only I've got to go round and see our Ambassador--I've
got a little business with him. I daresay you know that one of our
man-of-war ships is lying right down here in the Seine river. Well, the
captain is giving a reception to-morrow in honour of the Russian Admiral
who happens to be there, too. I've got ladies with me and I wrote for
four tickets. Did I get the four tickets--or two of them--or one? No,
sir, I got a letter in the third person singular saying it wasn't a
public entertainment! I wrote back to say I guessed it was an American
entertainment, and he could expect me, all the same. He hadn't any sort
of excuse--my name and business address were on my letter paper. Now I'm
just going round to see what a United States Ambassador's for, in this
connection."

Mr. Malt rose and the waiter withdrew his chair. "Thank you, _garçon_,"
said he. "I'm coming back again--do you understand? This is not my last
meal," and the waiter bowed as if that were a statement which had to be
acknowledged, but was of the least possible consequence to him
personally. "Well, Mr. Wick," continued Mr. Malt, brushing the crumbs
from his waistcoat, "I'll say good morning, and to your ladies also. I'm
very pleased to have met you."

"Well," said momma, as he disappeared, "if every American in Paris has
decided to go to that reception there won't be much room for the
Russians."