"Monsieur has bought my picture," said Mademoiselle Noemie. "When it's finished you'll carry it to him in a cab." "In a cab " cried M. Nioche; and he stared, in a bewildered way, as if he had seen the sun rising at midnight. "Are you the young lady's father?" said Newman. "I think she said you speak English." "Speak English -- yes," said the old man slowly rubbing his hands. "I will bring it in a cab." "Say something, then," cried his daughter. "Thank him a little -- not too much." "A little, my daughter, a little?" said M. Nioche perplexed. "How much?" "Two thousand " said Mademoiselle Noemie. "Don't make a fuss or he'll take back his word." "Two thousand " cried the old man, and he began to fumble for his snuff-box. He looked at Newman from head to foot; he looked at his daughter and then at the picture. "Take care you don't spoil it " he cried almost sublimely.