Bingle's arms, and an instant later deposited him in those of his
maternal grandmother, who in almost the same instant was pushed rudely
out of the room. The door was quickly closed. Napoleon's howls
receded.

"Now," said Rouquin, "we may talk in peace. My faithful old servant,
Madame," he went on, turning to Mrs. Bingle with his rarest smile. "I
do not know what I should do without her. She has gone out for the
milk and--Ah, what a treasure she is! Mon dieu, how I appreciate that
wonderful Fifi! That is her name, Madame--Fifi. Ah! Sublime--"

"She didn't look like a servant, Mr. Rouquin," said Mrs. Bingle,
recovered from her surprise.

"You speak of her dress, Madame? Has she not declared but now, this
instant, that she went out to the chemist's, to the dairy-lunch? Catch
Fifi on the street in her servant's dress! No, no! She spends her
wages on dress, vain creature. She would no more think of venturing
upon the street in--but, we waste time. Of what interest can be the
foibles of my poor old servant to you. Madame? Come, Marie--you see I
have known Madame Rousseau these many years, M'sieur--come, let us
assure Mr. Bingle that he need have nothing to fear if he decides to
do you--and poor old Jean here--the honour of adopting your most
fortunate baby."

Madame Rousseau dried her eyes upon a singularly pretty little
handkerchief, and then smiled beatifically.

"M'sieur need have no fear. I shall take the oath for my grand, my
adorable Napoleon's sake. After that, what shall I care what becomes