was very happy, for Mr. Probert was particular in this—he could bear French noise but he could not bear American. As for English, he maintained that there was none. Mr. Dosson had scarcely spoken to him and yet had remained perfectly placid, which was exactly what Gaston would have chosen. Francie's lover knew moreover (though he was a little disappointed that no charmed exclamation should have been dropped as they quitted the hotel), that her spell had worked: it was impossible the old man should not have liked her.
"Ah, do ask them, and let it be very soon," he replied. "They'll like it so much."
"And whom can they meet—who can meet them?"
"Only the family—all of us: au complet. Other people we can have later."
"All of us, au complet—that makes eight. And the three of them," said Mr. Probert. Then he added, "Poor creatures!" This exclamation gave Gaston much pleasure; he passed his hand into his father's arm. It promised well; it denoted a sentiment of tenderness for the dear little Dossons, confronted with a row of fierce French critics, judged by standards that they had never even heard of. The meeting of the two parents had not made the problem of their commerce any more clear; but young Probert was reminded freshly by his father's ejaculation of that characteristic kindness which was really what he had built upon. The
