"I think that is all the Spanish about her. She talks English
without the least accent. Hush! here is papa."

It was indeed the little Professor, who rushed into the room
and threw himself, blowing and panting, on the dingy sofa. He
was small and dry, with black eyes and a wrinkled face. He
wore a blonde wig which did not match his yellow complexion,
and was neatly dressed in black, with an old-fashioned
swallow-tail coat of blue. He carried a small fiddle and
spoke volubly without regarding the presence of Miles.

"Oh, these cochons of English, my dear," he exclaimed to
Peggy, "so steef--so wood-steef in the limbs. Wis 'em I kin
do noozzn', no, not a leetle bit. Zey would make ze angils
swear. Ah, mon Dieu, quel dommage I haf to teach zem."

"I must see about these accounts," said Peggy, picking up a
sheaf of papers and running out. "Stay to dejeuner, Miles."

"Eh, mon ami," cried papa, rising. "My excuses, but ze pigs
make me to be mooch enrage. Zey are ze steef dolls on the
Strasburg clock. You are veil--ah, yis--quite veil
cheerup."

The Professor had picked up a number of English slang words
with which he interlarded his conversation. He meant to be
kind, and indeed liked Miles greatly. In proof of his
recovered temper, he offered the young man a pinch of snuff.
Jennings hated snuff, but to keep Papa Le Beau in a good
temper he accepted the offer and sneezed violently.