My father was a great commercant; he placed me for a year in a
counting-house in England. Some of it stuck to me; but I have
forgotten!"

"How much French can I learn in a month?"

"What does he say?" asked Mademoiselle Noemie.

M. Nioche explained.

"He will speak like an angel!" said his daughter.

But the native integrity which had been vainly exerted to secure M.
Nioche's commercial prosperity flickered up again. "Dame, monsieur!" he
answered. "All I can teach you!" And then, recovering himself at a sign
from his daughter, "I will wait upon you at your hotel."

"Oh yes, I should like to learn French," Newman went on, with democratic
confidingness. "Hang me if I should ever have thought of it! I took for
granted it was impossible. But if you learned my language, why shouldn't
I learn yours?" and his frank, friendly laugh drew the sting from the
jest. "Only, if we are going to converse, you know, you must think of
something cheerful to converse about."

"You are very good, sir; I am overcome!" said M. Nioche, throwing out
his hands. "But you have cheerfulness and happiness for two!"

"Oh no," said Newman more seriously. "You must be bright and lively;
that's part of the bargain."