“Mr. Jones, you are quite an orator,” said Mr. Ingalls.
“You have ze great talent for speaking Monsieur Alphonse. You should go to Congress.”
“My lord count, you flatter me,” said Mr. Jones, deciding that this was, by all odds, the proudest moment of his life.
“Not at all, Mr. Jones,” said Mr. Ingalls. “I never heard a neater speech, did you, Hayward?”
“Never,” said Hayward.
So poor Alphonso was fooled to the top of his bent, and when the company separated, and he retired to his humble apartment, he was visited by the most ravishing dreams, in which he stood at the altar with the high-born Countess Marie de Montmorency, clad in sumptuous attire, wearing on his breast the cross of the Legion of Honor.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE LITTLE FLOWER-GIRL.
Gilbert found it very irksome to be without employment; besides, he was anxious to be vindicated as soon as possible from the malicious charge which had been made against him. He felt himself fortunate, however, in one respect; he was subjected to no privations, having his board and lodging paid by his guardian. Had Mr. Briggs suspected him, he was proud enough to have left his boarding-place, and relied upon his own exertions.
From the force of habit, and partly to fill up his time, Gilbert continued to go down-town daily. One day he met Mr. Vivian on Broadway, below the Astor House.
“Good-morning, Gilbert,” said the merchant, pleasantly. “Are you out on business?”