"So'y, Mistoo Itchlin," said Narcisse, whipping away the pastry crumbs from his lap with a handkerchief and wiping his mouth, "not to encounteh you a lill biffo', to join in pahtaking the cup what cheeahs at the same time whilce it invigo'ates; to-wit, the coffee-cup--as the maxim say. I dunno by what fawmule she makes that coffee, but 'tis astonishin' how 'tis good, in fact. I dunno if you'll billieve me, but I feel almost I could pahtake anotheh cup--? 'Tis the tooth." He gave Richling time to make any handsome offer that might spontaneously suggest itself, but seeing that the response was only an over-gay expression of face, he added, "But I conclude no. In fact, Mistoo Itchlin, thass a thing I have discovud,--that too much coffee millytates ag'inst the chi'og'aphy; and thus I abstain. Well, seh, ole Abe is elected." "Yes," rejoined Richling, "and there's no telling what the result will be." "You co'ect, Mistoo Itchlin." Narcisse tried to look troubled. "I've got a bit of private news that I don't think you've heard," said Richling. And the Creole rejoined promptly:-- "Well, I _thought_ I saw something on yo' thoughts--if you'll excuse my tautology. Thass a ve'y diffycult to p'event sometime'. But, Mistoo Itchlin, I trus' 'tis not you 'ave allowed somebody to swin'le you?--confiding them too indiscweetly, in fact?" He took a pretty attitude, his eyes reposing in Richling's. Richling laughed outright. "No, nothing of that kind. No, I"-- "Well, I'm ve'y glad," interrupted Narcisse. "Oh, no, 'tisn't trouble at all! I've sent for Mrs. Richling. We're going to resume housekeeping." Narcisse gave a glad start, took his hat off, passed it to his left hand, extended his right, bowed from the middle with princely grace, and, with joy breaking all over his face, said:-- "Mistoo Itchlin, in fact,--shake!" They shook. "Yesseh--an' many 'appy 'eturn! I dunno if you kin billieve that, Mistoo Itchlin; but I was juz about to 'ead that in yo' physio'nomie! Yesseh. But, Mistoo Itchlin, when shall the happy o'casion take effect?" "Pretty soon. Not as soon as I thought, for I got a despatch yesterday, saying her mother is very ill, and of course I telegraphed her to stay till her mother is at least convalescent. But I think that will be soon. Her mother has had these attacks before. I have good hopes that before long Mrs. Richling will actually be here." Richling began to move away down the crowded market-house, but Narcisse said:-- "Thass yo' di'ection? 'Tis the same, mine. We may accompany togetheh--if you'll allow yo' 'umble suvvant?" "Come along! You do me honor!" Richling laid his hand on Narcisse's shoulder and they went at a gait quickened by the happy husband's elation. Narcisse was very proud of the touch, and, as they began to traverse the vegetable market, took the most populous arcade.