Fergus and Tommy looked about the cozy room with pleasure as they entered, receiving the salute of Gustave and the English bow of Walter as tributes to their deep, unspoken hopes. "Where will you sit, Miss Tucker?" asked Appleton, and as he spoke his quick eye observed the "Engaged" placard, and with lightning dexterity he steered his guest toward that table. (There _was_ an opening, if you like!) Not quick enough for Tommy, though, for she had seen it and dropped into a seat several feet away, declaring its position was perfect. Gustave put menus before his distinguished clients with a flourish, and indicated the wine card as conspicuously as was consistent with good form. Then he paused and made mental notes of the situation. "Ah, very good, very good," murmured Appleton. "You might move the flowers, please; they rather hide--the view; and bring the soup, please." "Very young married ones!" thought Gustave, summoning his slave and retiring to a point where he could watch the wine card. Walter brought the consomme, and then busied himself at the other tables. They would never be occupied, but it was just as well to pretend, so he set hideous colored wine-glasses, red, green, and amber, at the various places, and polished them ostentatiously with a clean napkin in the hope that the gentleman would experience a desire for liquid refreshment. "This is very jolly, and very unexpected," said Appleton. "It is, indeed." "I hope you don't miss the nest-egg." "You mustn't call it a nest-egg! That's a stale thing, or a china one that they leave in, I don't know why--for an example, or a pattern, or a suggestion," said Tommy, laughing. "An egg from the nest is Miss Scattergood's phrase, and it means a new-laid one." "Oh, I see!--well, do you regret it?" "Certainly not, with this sumptuous repast just beginning!" "You always give me an appetite," exclaimed Appleton. "It's a humble function, but not one to be despised," Tommy answered mischievously, fencing, fencing every minute, with her heart beating against her ribs like a sledge-hammer. Walter brought the fish and solicitously freed the wine card that had somehow crept under a cover of knives and forks. "I beg ten thousand pardons. What will you drink, Miss Tucker? We must have a drop of something to cheer us at a farewell dinner. Here is a vintage champagne, a good honest wine that will hearten us up and leave no headache in its train." "I couldn't to-night, Mr. Appleton; I really couldn't." "Then I refuse to be exhilarated alone," said Fergus gallantly; "and you always have the effect of champagne on me anyway. I decline to say good-bye. I can't even believe it is 'au revoir' between us. We had such delightful days ahead, and so many plans." "Yes; it isn't nice to make up your mind so suddenly that it turns everything topsy-turvy," sighed Tommy--"I won't have any meat, thank you."