soldier, and his grandson reminded him of it only when sorely pressed.
Old Jean was as proud of the Alpine Chasseurs as was his grandson.
He always took part in their discussions when Jean's companions came to the stable to smoke and talk. Indeed they were a fine-looking lot in their gay uniforms and with their soldierly manners. Young Jean himself was as tall as a Lombardy poplar and handsome as any French gallant, or at least that was what his doting grandfather thought as he feasted his eyes upon him.
At Hotel Bellevue in Rue Galilee, where he was hostler, old Jean was allowed but one dog, and that was Nanette, an Airedale terrier.
But in the eyes of old Jean, Nanette was a dozen dogs in one. She was de-
