She shook her head. "I think it is a most beautiful picture," she said as she looked at it admiringly. "Oh! if all the folk who buy pictures had your good taste, Germaine, how lucky we artist chaps would be," he said, draining the cider jug. "I feel much refreshed and must get to work again, for the light is changing fast. Sit there in the shade, child, and tell me what you are going to do at the fête of St. Sauveur next week." There was nothing Germaine liked better than to watch the picture grow under the quickly moving brushes; and Mr. Thomson talked to her so pleasantly in his queer French that it amused her. Germaine never smiled, even when he made mistakes in grammar that a French child of eight would not have made. The French are a proverbially polite people, and at no time is their politeness so apparent as when a foreigner is speaking their language. They never laugh nor take the slightest notice of the worst blunders, but with the greatest pains try to understand them, and even go out of their way to set them right. But to-day it was not the fête that Germaine wanted to talk about. "Tell me more about Paris," she said, shyly. "Oh, Germaine, you are just like all the world--wild about Paris," laughed Mr. Thomson. He lived in Paris during the winter, and his big studio looked out on the fine old gardens of the Luxembourg, and from the windows could be seen the gilded dome of the Hôtel des Invalides, under which is the tomb of the great Napoleon. It was the dream of Germaine's life to see this wonderful city of Paris that she had heard so much about. So she listened eagerly when Mr. Thomson told her of the broad boulevards shaded by chestnut-trees, with fine shops on either side, and the great avenue of the Champs Élysées, at the end of which stands the Arch of Triumph, erected by Napoleon in memory of his victories. Along this avenue passes the gay world of Paris in carriages, automobiles, and on foot, bound for the Bois de Boulogne. A part of this great park is set aside for the special use of the children. No noisy automobile is allowed in this special enclosure, and carriages can only drive at a moderate pace. Here the Parisian mothers bring their children for a good time. They can romp over the grass and play among the pretty flower-beds; have games of tennis, croquet, or battledore and shuttlecock (which is a favourite game with them), while their older relatives sit around on little camp-stools, which every one carries with them to the parks, and talk or do fancy work. There are ornamental refreshment houses where cakes and milk and sweet drinks can be had: thus it is a veritable children's paradise! "But there is even more fun to be had in the gardens of the Tuileries; _there_ is where I would like to take you, Germaine," said Mr. Thomson.