e found some good customers for my
paintings?"

"Oh! Then you're an artist, are you?"

"I have the honor," says he. "I should be pleased to have you inspect
some of my----"

"It wouldn't help a bit," says I. "All I know about art is that as a
rule it don't pay. Don't you do anything else?"

He hunches his shoulders and spreads out both hands.

"It is true, what you say of art," he goes on. "And so then I must do
the decorating of walls--the wreaths of roses on the ceiling. That was
my profession when we lived at Peronne. But here--there is trouble about
the union. The greasy plumber will not work where I am, it seems. _Eh
bien!_ I am forced out. So I return to my landscapes. Are there not many
rich Americans who pay well for such things?"

I waves him back into his chair.

"How'd you come to wander so far from this Peronne place?" says I.

"It was because of our son, Henri," says he. "You see, he preferred to
be as my father was, a chef. I began that way, too. The Battous always
do--a family of cooks. But I broke away. Henri would not. He became the
pastry chef at the Hotel Gaspard in Peronne. And who shall say, too,
that he was not an artist in his way? Yes, with a certain fame. At
least, they heard here, in New York. You would not believe what they
offered if he would leave Peronne. And after months of saying no he said
yes. It was true. They paid as they promised--more. So Henri sends for
us to come also. We found him living like a prince. Truly! For more than
three years we enjoyed his good fortune.

"And then--_la guerre_! Henri must go to join his regiment. True, he
might have stayed. But we talked not of that. It was for France. So he
went, not to return. Ah, yes! At Ypres, after only three months in the
trenches. Then I say to the little mother, 'Courage! I, Leon Battou, am
still a painter. The art which has been as a pastime shall be made to
yield us bread. You shall see.' Ah, I believed--then."

"Nothing doing, eh?" says I.

Battou shakes his head.

"Well," says I, "the surest bet just now would be to locate some
wall-frescoin'. I'll see what can be done along that line."

"Ah, that is noble of you, young man," exclaims Battou. "It is wonderful
to find such a friend. A thousand thanks! I will tell the little mother
that we are saved."

With that he shakes me by both hands, gives me a bear hug, and rushes
off.

Pretty soon Vee comes down with smiles in her eyes.

"I just knew you would find