At the apartment the _concierge_ bowed and smiled to them, and wished them a good evening. Up-stairs Arlette was manifestly upset by the appearance of an unexpected guest, but Andree disappeared into the kitchen, whence emerged a whirlwind of chatter, and all was well.... Bert was just finishing shaving. “Andree, eh?” he said. “Why didn’t you tip me off, and I’d have gathered up Madeleine.” “I don’t know.... I—” Kendall was thinking about the other night. “Piffle!” said Bert. Then, “Do you mean to tell me—” “I certainly do mean to tell you,” Ken said, belligerently. “You get me, young fellow. You sure do....” “Oh, dry up, and come to dinner—and behave if you can manage it.” Kendall went into the _salon_ to rejoin Andree, more than a little apprehensive of the future if it should throw Andree and Madeleine together. Andree was looking about the room with humorous toleration from a seat in the outrageous piece of furniture which she had claimed as her throne. “Mademoiselle Madeleine—she is not here?” “No.” “It is not well. Go and fetch her.... Now.... At once. Or I shall go away.” She shook her head and made stiff little gestures with her hand, but when he stood in front of her she twinkled at him and placed both hands in his when he held them out toward her. He retained them a moment and then raised them to his lips. “You’re a sweet child,” he said. “Oh, I do not onderstan’....I do not know.... Where is the _dictionnaire_?” “No matter.... There’s Arlette announcing dinner.” It was Arlette’s custom to poke her head through the door when dinner was ready and to stare into the room silently and a little affrightedly. She never spoke. It was necessary to watch for the appearance of her head if one wanted to know when the meal was served. Bert came in and Andree asked after Madeleine’s health as if she considered Bert personally responsible for it, demanding why she was not present. “Ken’s afraid you don’t like her,” Bert said, mischievously. “_Mais oui.... Mais oui._ I do like. I like ver’ much. Why you theenk?” She turned to Ken with the question. “Don’t pay any attention to Bert. He thinks he has a sense of humor,” Ken said, but his ears were red, nevertheless, a circumstance which did not escape Andree’s sharp eyes. She let the matter pass and addressed herself to her food with that detachment from all other matters which always brought a smile to Kendall’s face. There were so many quaint, delightful attributes in her....