"Ah!" said Monsieur Rouquin, smiting himself on the forehead. "I should have known. Have I no brain? Listen! I tap my head. Does it not give out a hollow sound, as if entirely empty? Say yes, my dear sir. I shall not be offended. To have misinterpreted the polite--Ah, but, it is of no consequence. Pray proceed, sir." "Proceed?" muttered Mr. Bingle, frowning. "There's nothing more to the quotation, Rouquin, so far as I know. Merely 'love's labour lost,' no more. But I would like to ask a question or two. Are the parents of this child quite respectable people?" Rouquin rolled his eyes upward. "Utterly," he said, with deep feeling in his voice. "Healthy?" "Parfaitment!" "What does that mean?" "Perfectly, my dear Mr. Bingle." "Oh! And are they married?" "Mon dieu!" cried Rouquin, turning scarlet. "Absolutely, sir--incontestably." "I mean, to each other." "Monsieur jests," was all that Rouquin could say. He wiped his brow, however. "Well, when may we see the child? When can we talk it over with the parents?" "That is for you to say, sir." "To-morrow afternoon?" "I shall so arrange it, sir. Will not you and Madame Bang--Bingle honour me with your presence at a little tea-room--quite an excellent and refined place that I know of--before we go to inspect the child? It will give me the greatest pleasure if--" "See here, Rouquin, that's most kind of you, but I'd prefer to have you take tea with Mrs. Bingle and me. Do you know of a nice, but thoroughly typical French restaurant where we could--er--get a bit of the atmosphere, don't you know? We are figuring on taking a trip to Paris soon and we'd like to--well, you know what I mean? Quiet, respectable place, you know. Nothing rowdyish." Rouquin's eyes sparkled. His joy was great. "Ah, I know of such a place. But it is not a tea-room, in the strict sense of the term. It is a cafe where one has the finest table d'hote dinner in all New York for one dollar per person, wine included. Ah, if Monsieur would only condescend to dine there, AFTER we have seen the child, I am sure--" "I'll telephone you in the morning," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes gleaming. "I shall have to speak to Mrs. Bingle about it first."