dear," he said, "my very dear son, God bless you and--her."

Again Brigit longed to flee, but she knew that if she tried, Joyselle
would be after her like a shot, and, she realised with an irrepressible
little laugh, probably pick her up and carry her down to the kitchen.

"Are you hungry, my man?" asked Madame Joyselle, slipping the omelet
onto a warmed platter, "there is some galantine de volaille truffée, and
this, and some cold veal."

Joyselle patted her affectionately on the back.

"_Oui, oui, my femme_, I am hungry. But--Théo--to-night I am a wizard. I
will grant you any wish you may have in your heart."

"Any wish----"

"_Pauvre petit_, tell him not that, Victor, my man. What would the poor
angel desire but the impossible?"

Théo stood silently looking at them. He was evidently in no mood for
farce, but as evidently he adored this noisy big father who towered
above his slender height like a giant, and tried to force himself to his
father's humour. "Dear papa," he murmured, "it is good that you have
come. I am so happy."

Joyselle seized the opportunity, such as it was, and turning to the open
door, called out in a voice trembling with pleasure and mischief, "Fairy
Princess, come forth."