"Whisper, Professor," says I, "did you work a spell on it, or what?"
"Ah-h-h!" says Battou, chucklin' and rubbin' his hands together. "It is cooked à la Paysan, after the manner of Péronne, and with it is the sauce château. "
"That isn't mere cookery," says Vee; "that's art."
It was quite a cheery evenin'. And after the Battous had gone, Vee and I asked each other, almost in chorus: "Do you suppose he'd do it again?"
"He will if I'm any persuader," says I. "Wouldn't it be great to spring something like that on Mr. Robert?"
And while I'm shavin' next mornin' I connect with the big idea. Do you ever get 'em that way? It cost me a nick under the ear, but I didn't care. While I'm usin' the alum stick I sketches out the scheme for Vee.
"But, Torchy!" says she. "Do you think he would—really?"
Before I can answer there's a ring at the door, and here is M. Leon Battou.
"The agent once more!" says he, producin' a paper. "In three days, it says. But you have found me the wall-painting, yes?"
"Professor," says I, "I hate to say it, but there's nothin' doing in the free-hand fresco line—absolutely."