long. But never mind your cakes. It's twenty minutes past six, and the table d'hôte is on time."
"You don't mean to say you dine at the table d'hôte!" Mr. Flack ejaculated.
"Why, don't you like that?" Francie drawled sweetly.
"Well, it isn't what you most build on when you come to Paris. Too many flower-pots and chickens' legs."
"Well, would you like one of these restaurants?" asked Mr. Dosson. "I don't care, if you show us a good one."
"Oh, I'll show you a good one—don't you worry."
"Well, you've got to order the dinner then," said Francie.
"Well, you'll see how I could do it!" And the young man looked at her very hard, with an intention of softness.
"He has got an interest in some place," Delia declared. "He has taken us to ever so many stores, and he gets his commission."
"Well, I'd pay you to take them round," said Mr. Dosson; and with much agreeable trifling of this kind it was agreed that they should sally forth for the evening meal under Mr. Flack's guidance.
If he had easily convinced them on this occasion that that was a more original proceeding than worrying those old bones, as he called it,
