“Oh, that’s it. I didn’t know you were such a French scholar, Mr. Jones.”
“I am a poor French scholar,” said Alphonso, modestly; “but I shall try to make myself familiar with the language before I go to France.”
“Are you going to France? How long has that been in your mind?”
“To tell the truth, Mr. Kidder, I never thought seriously of it till last evening. But since the Count de Montmorency has been kind enough to invite me to visit him at his chateau, and become acquainted with his noble family, I feel that it is quite worth my while to prepare myself to converse with them.”
“You don’t say so! What a lucky fellow you are! Did the count really invite you?”
“He invited me in the most affable and friendly—I may say urgent manner,” said Alphonso, complacently.
“Couldn’t you get me an invitation, too?” asked Kidder, in pretended anxiety. “I’ve been long wanting to go abroad, and I think my father would consent, if I received such an invitation as that.”
“I should like to oblige you, Mr. Kidder, but really I couldn’t venture on such a liberty,” said Alphonso, decidedly; for he feared that his fellow-clerk, who was better-looking than himself, might interfere with his matrimonial designs upon the count’s high-born sister.
“Perhaps the count will invite me himself. I’ll get Ingalls to introduce me.”
“Possibly,” said Alphonso, coldly; “but I wouldn’t obtrude myself upon his lordship.”