“Good-day, messieurs!” She inclined her head to one side like a plump and speculative bird, and her hands began mechanically to smooth her black alpaca apron.

“Good-day, madame!” The Irishman rose and took off his hat with a flourish that was essentially flattering.

The bright little eyes of the Parisienne sparkled, and her round face relaxed into the inevitable smile.

’What could she have the pleasure of offering monsieur?  It was late, but she had an excellent ragout, now a little cold, perhaps, but capable in an instant—­’

The stranger put up his hand.  “Madame, we could not think of giving you the trouble—­”

“Monsieur, a pleasure—­”

“No, madame, it is past the hour of dejeuner.  All we need is your charming hospitality and two cups of coffee.”

’Coffee!  But certainly!  While monsieur was saying the word it would be made and served.’

Madame hurried off, and in silence the Irishman took out his cigarette-case and offered it to the boy.  Bare and even cold as the cafe was, there was a certain sense of shelter in the closed glass door, in the blue film of cigarette smoke that presently began to mount upward toward the ceiling, and in the pleasant smell of coffee borne to them from unseen regions mingling with the shrill, cheerful tones of their hostess’s voice.

“A wonderful place, Paris, when all’s said and done!” murmured the Irishman, drawing in a long, luxurious breath of smoke.  “How an English restaurant-keeper would stare you out of countenance if you demanded a modest cup of coffee when he had luncheon for you to eat!  But here, bless you, they acknowledge the rights of man.  If you want coffee, coffee you must have—­and that with the best grace in the world, lest your self-esteem be hurt!  They’re like my people at home:  consideration for the individual is the first thing.  It means nothing, a Saxon will tell you, and probably he’s quite right; but I’d sooner have a pleasant-spoken sinner any day than a disagreeable saint.  Ah, here comes madame!” The last words he added in French, and the boy watched him in amused wonder as he jumped to his feet and, meeting their hostess at the kitchen door, insisted upon taking the tray from her hands.

Laughing, excited, and flattered, the little woman followed him to the table.

‘It was really too much!  Monsieur was too kind!’

’On the contrary!  It was not meant that woman should wait upon man!  Madame had accomplished her share in making this most excellent coffee!’

He sniffed at the steaming pot with the air of a connoisseur.

Madame laughed again, this time self-consciously.  ’Well, her coffee had been spoken of before now!  Monsieur, her husband, who was quite a gourmet—­’

’Always declared there was no such coffee in all Paris!  Was not that so?’

Madame’s laugh was now a gurgle of delight.  ’How clever of monsieur!  Yes, it was what he said.’