"M'sieu'--oh, m'sieu', it was what I wanted to ask you, and I didn't
dare!" gushingly declared madame. "I never heard a bird sing like that
--just as if it knew how much good it was doing, and with all the airs of
a grand seigneur. It's a prince of birds, that. If you mean it,
m'sieu', you'll do as good a thing as you have ever done."

"It would have to be much better, or it wouldn't be any use," remarked
Jean Jacques.

The woman made a motion of friendliness with both hands. "I don't
believe that. You may be queer, but you've got a kind eye. It won't be
for long she'll need the canary, and it will cheer her. There certainly
was never a bird so little tied to one note. Now this note, now that,
and so amusing. At times it's as though he was laughing at you."

"That's because, with me for his master, he has had good reason to
laugh," remarked Jean Jacques, who had come at last to take a despondent
view of himself.

"That's bosh," rejoined Mme. Glozel; "I've seen several people odder than
you."

She went over to the cage eagerly, and was about to take it away.
"Excuse me," interposed Jean Jacques, "I will carry the cage to the
house. Then you will go in with the bird, and I'll wait outside and see
if the little rascal sings."

"This minute?" asked madame.