"I'll speak to her. Won't you come in?"
Fitz would come in, and he did. He was shown to the rear room, where Maggie was clearing off the supper table. Fitz was a young "man of the world," and as imitative as a monkey. He had once moved in what he called "good society," and was familiar with all the little courtesies of life. He expressed his regret at the illness of André in the most courtly terms, and his sympathy with Maggie. Leo wanted to go to work, but he felt obliged to remain, and witness the interview.
"You will excuse me for calling at such a time; but I will not detain you long, Miss Maggimore. I understand that you are a French scholar. Am I rightly informed?"
"Yes, sir, I speak French," replied Maggie, beginning to expect another job in translating.
"And I suppose you read French."
"Yes, sir."
"I have really forgotten all the French I ever knew," continued Mr. Wittleworth, apologetically; and one would have supposed, from his manner, that the French language was the only thing in the world he did not know, and that it was intensely humiliating to acknowledge that he did not know that. "I have a letter from France, written in French, which it is of the utmost importance that I should read. I have taken the liberty to call upon you to beg the favor of a translation of the letter."
Mr. Wittleworth took from his pocket the letter which the banker had given to his mother.
"I shall be very happy to assist you," added Maggie, kindly.
"Thank you, Miss Maggimore. If you will give me the English of the letter, I will write down the important part of it," continued Fitz, taking a pencil and paper from his pocket, seating himself at the table, and handing her the letter.