"This young man, this foolish boy--do you encourage him to come here, Janet?" said Monsieur Canau, angrily, as he returned to the room to find both the young girls in tears. Her answer was a shake of the head, while Patty came forward and placed both her little hands in his, as she thanked him for his conduct, and begged him not to speak angrily to Janet. "It is well," he said, nodding his head many times, "and I am not angry with Janet. But this must not be: he must be stopped: he must come here no more." He paused, for a loud sob from Janet took his attention, and turning, he found her with her face buried in her hands as she bent down, weeping bitterly. "Poor child!" said Canau, tenderly, "she is soon alarmed. The scene has been too much; but we will go up to our own room and have some music. It will greatly soothe and calm this troubled spirit. But no--not so; we must wait for Wragg--we must not leave till he comes; and Patty, my child, you must no more be in the shop alone. It is not right for you. But enough--enough of this. I will stay with you now, and we will finish the birds." Turning to the painting, he sketched on as if nothing had happened, conversing lightly in French, till seeing once more that the tears would flow, he raised his brows slightly, shrugged his shoulders, rolled up and lit a cigarette, and strolled into the shop, muttering, as he left the girls to each other's sympathy-- "But this must be stopped: he must come here no more." Very thoughtful was Monsieur Canau, as he stood there in the shop, his gaze lighting here and there upon bird, beast, or fish. But he saw them not, for his mind was filled with the recollection of the incident of that morning, and his seamed countenance grew more full of line and pucker as he sent the blue vapour from his cigarette, eddying out upon the air in furious puffs. Then he walked to the door to look up and down the street, considering within himself the while what he should say to the dealer on his return; then he wondered whether it was the little man's doing that Lionel Redgrave had gone there while Janet and her friend were in charge, and he frowned again and again as the thoughts came thick and fast. But at last, muttering to himself these words--"He must come here no more," he was about to turn into the house, when he became aware of a low surly face close to him, apparently watching his every motion. Volume 2, Chapter XII. D. WRAGG'S DAY OUT. If there is one thing more loved of your genuine Londoner than shell-fish, it is what he calls an "outing."