_This very man who was cutting my hair_ had cut the hair of General Joffre--when he had his hair here in the United States. At "Mr. Frick's house," where they were guests, he had attended the distinguished party on its mission here. He would go in the morning, stay until they had gone forth for the day; return in the afternoon, and spruce them up for their evening out. And what did they say, these great men of might? Well, Joffre didn't say much. They were always out late--hurry out again. He shaved some of them "almost in the bath." That fellow, the Blue Devil,--one leg--cane--but back and forth from his bath quick like anybody. He was the most talkative: "I could not but laugh at what he told me. I asked, 'Do you speak English?' 'No,' he said, 'but I ought to.' 'How is that?' I asked. 'Because,' he said, 'I'm half American.' 'Oh!' I said, 'your father then was American and your mother French?' 'No,' he said. 'Ah!' I say, 'then your mother was American and your father was French.' Do you understand? I say that to him. 'No,' he say; 'no.' 'What then?' I ask. 'Why,' he say, 'I have one leg in France and one leg in America.' I could not but laugh. Do you understand?" When the visitors had departed Mr. Frick asked my friend for his bill. "Oh, no!" he said; "he would take nothing but the great honor for his little services." My hair cut was finished. As I paid him (there being in this case, I felt, no such great honor for his little services), he showed me a drawing on the wall of a poodle he had one time owned. It had died. Very sad. He was very fond of dogs. Of bred dogs, that is. He bred them himself. He handed me his card as a professional dog fancier. It read: CHINK A TU KENNELS CHOW CHOWS, PEKINGESES, POMERANIANS, ALL COLORS FROM PRICE WINNING STOCK MINIATURE SPECIMENS AT STUD. PEKINGESE, WONDERFUL SON OF WENTY OF HYDEGREE. FEE REASONABLE. AT STUD. LORD CHOLMONDELEY III SON OF CHAMPION LORD CHOLMONDELEY II. TOY DOGS BOARDED MME. HENRI GRECHEN Yes, that morning he had done "some manicure work" for his dogs. She looked up, the manicurist (milk-white blonde, black velvet gown), and said, "Do you use the clippers?" He: "Yes, of course. But not powder and polish. Quick, they want. Not hold hands for hour--conversation about best show in town." He bowed, very low, as I crossed his threshold. I turned and bowed, very low, to him. A man of many parts and a barber illustrious in his profession. It was some time before my head cooled off. CHAPTER V SEEING MR. CHESTERTON