and was gone like a soul into heaven.

In the middle of my short recital Manouvrier had sunk down upon the arm of
his wife's rocking-chair with one huge hand on both of hers folded over
her sewing, and as I finished he sat motionless, still gazing into my
face.


"But," I started, with sudden pretence of business impulse, "how much am I
to pay?"

He rose, slowly, and looked dreamily at his wife; she smiled at him, and
he grunted,

"Nut'n'."

"Oh, my friend," I laughed, "that's absurd!"

But he had no reply, and his wife, as she resumed her sewing, said,
sweetly, as if to her needle, "Ah, I think Pastropbon don't got to charge
nut'n' if he don't feel like." And I could not move them.

As I was leaving them, a sudden conjecture came to me.

"Did those birthday numbers bring you any luck?"

The taxidermist shook his head, good-naturedly, but when his wife laughed
he turned upon her.

"Wait! I dawn't be done wid doze number' yet."