sense of trust and
self-respect, which he thoroughly appreciated. As yet I have not given
him the key of my desk here, because I reserve it as a special reward for
good conduct. In a few days more I have no doubt he will add it to the
collection in his bag."

"Ah," said Madame Fontaine, with the humility which no living woman knew
better when and how to assume, "you understand these difficult
questions--you have your grand national common-sense. I am only a poor
limited German woman. But, as you say in England, 'Live and learn.' You
have indescribably interested me. Good morning."

She left the room. "Hateful woman!" she said in her own language, on the
outer side of the door.

"Humbug!" said Mrs. Wagner in her language, on the inner side of the
door.

If there had been more sympathy between the two ladies, or if Madame
Fontaine had felt a little curiosity on the subject of crazy Jack's keys,
she might have taken away with her some valuable materials for future
consideration. As it was, Mrs. Wagner had not troubled her with any
detailed narrative of the manner in which she had contrived to fill
Jack's leather bag.

In London, she had begun cautiously by only giving him some of the
useless old keys which accumulate about a house in course of years. When
the novelty of merely keeping them had worn off, and when he wanted to
see them put to some positive use, she had added one or two keys of her
own, and had flattered his pride by asking him to open the box or the
desk for her, as the case might be. Proceeding on the same wisely gradual
plan at Frankfort, she had asked Mr. Keller to help her, and had been
taken by him (while Jack was out of the way) to a lumber-room in the
basement of the house, on the floor of which several old keys were lying
about. "Take as many as you like," he had said; "they have been here, for
all I know, ever since the house was repaired and refurnished in my
grandfather's time, and they might be sold for old iron, if there were
only enough of them." Mrs. Wagner had picked up the first six keys that
presented themselves, and had made Jack Straw the happiest of men. He
found no fault with them for being rusty. On the contrary, he looked
forward with delight to the enjoyment of cleaning away the rust. "They
shall be as bright as diamonds," he had said to his mistress, "before I
have done with them."

And what did Madame Fontaine lose, by failing to inform herself of such
trifles as these? She