"You see this is my first visit to Paris. Though I ought not to call it a
visit, for Paris is to be my home now," and she smiled at last, happy in
the belief that in a few moments she would see Jack.

She was a little troubled at the thought that Jack would be disappointed at
her coming here in this way, with a stranger. But surely after she had
explained the extraordinary occurrence of the morning he would understand?

They were now opposite No. 3. It was a curious, mosque-like building, with
the domed roof of what must be the studio, in the centre. Boldly inscribed
on a marble slab set above the door was the name, "John Dampier."

Before the bell had well stopped ringing, a sturdy apple-faced old woman,
wearing the Breton dress Jack so much admired, stood before them.

Nancy of course knew her at once for Mere Bideau.

A pleasant smile lit up the gnarled face, and Nancy remembered what Jack
had so often said as to Mere Bideau's clever way of dealing with visitors,
especially with possible art patrons.

Mrs. Dampier looked very kindly at the old woman who had been so good and
so faithful a servant to her Jack, and who, she hoped, would also serve her
well and faithfully.

Before the Senator had time to speak, Mere Bideau, shaking her head,
observed respectfully, "Mr. Dampier is not yet arrived. But if you,
monsieur, and you, madame, will give yourselves the trouble of coming back
this afternoon he will certainly be here, for I am expecting him
any moment--"