"Oh, no, Madame, I am Monsieur Bincteux's son."
"Then your father is coming later?"
"Oh, no, Madame, he can't, he is mechanician in the aviation corps at Verdun. My oldest brother is in the artillery, and the second one has just left for the front—so I quit school and am trying to help mother continue the business."
"How old are you?"
"I belong to the Class of 1923," came the proud reply.
"Oh, I see. Come right in then, I'll show you what I need."
With a most serious and important air he produced a note book, tapped on the partitions, sounded the walls, took measures and jotted down a few lines.
"Very well, Madame, I've seen all that's necessary. I'll be back to-morrow morning with a workman."
True to his word he appeared the next day, accompanied by a decrepit, coughing, asthmatic specimen of humanity, who was hardly worthy of the honorable title his employer had seen fit to confer.
Our studio is extremely high, and when it was necessary to stretch out and raise our double extension ladder, it seemed as though disaster were imminent.