her father to ask her "dear old man in the cellar " to the family dinner-party.
At first Alphonse declared that he could not come—could not possibly come. But the little girl coaxed him into relenting.
"If you stay away—I—I also will stay away," she said with a pout.
"But no, most dear—" he said anxiously.
"As true as you live. I will not eat a mouthful."
"But, my Angel—"
"And there will be such superb things to eat!" she concluded, shaking her head.
M. Alphonse ventured no more refusals.
"If it must be—" he said meekly.
So he went.
At first the cheerful room of the concierge confused him with its light and brightness, and the half-dozen guests all chattering at once. The old man blushed for his poor clothes and ragged beard, and would not speak or look up.
