laughed at the shouting buffoons. Scraggy mountebanks performed on trumpets, and young girls with well floured shoulders smile d alluringly from the platforms.
Monsieur Tousseau's purse was never at rest; but they did not grow impatient of the perpetual claims upon it. On the contrary, they only laughed at the gigantic efforts these people would make to earn—perhaps half a franc, or a few centimes.
Suddenly they encountered a face they knew. It was a young American whom they had met at the hotel in Paris.
"Well, Monsieur Whitmore!" cried Madame Tousseau, gaily, "here at last you've found a place where you can't possibly help enjoying yourself."
"For my part," answered the American, slowly, "I find no enjoyment in seeing the people who haven't money making fools of themselves to please the people who have."
"Oh, you're incorrigible!" laughed the young wife," But I must compliment you on the excellent French you are speaking to-day."
After exchanging a few more words, they lost each other in the crowd; Mr. Whitmore was going back to Paris immediately.
Madame Tousseau's compliment was quite sincere. As a rule the grave American talked deplorable French, but the answer he had made to Madame was almost correct. It seemed as though it had been well thought out in advance—as though
