The end of a long table had been laid with the finest napery and plate of the hotel; they sat down at it, and were forthwith served with an exquisitely cooked dish of fresh mullet, wonderful hot cakes, and steaming cups of fragrant _cafe au lait_.

As he breakfasted, Tinker conversed with the chattering staff with a cheerful kindliness and a thorough knowledge of all their private concerns, keeping Elsie informed of the matters under discussion by such phrases as "It's Adolphe's wife; she beats him;" or, "Lucie has consulted a fortune-teller, who says she is going to marry a millionaire;" or, "Jean's eldest daughter has just made her first communion; they say she looked like a pretty little angel." But he did not tell her of the chaffing congratulations heaped on him on the prospect of his settling down with his beautiful blonde demoiselle.

He accepted them with a smile of angelic indulgence.
When they had done they went upstairs; and, on the way, Tinker said, "I must have a shot at that hair of yours; it--it really gets on my nerves." "It's no use," said Elsie with her ready flush.

"I brush it as well as I can; but I can't do it very well, there's such a lot of it." "Well, I'll do what I can," said Tinker, and he measured with thoughtful eye the silken mass, tangled and matted by the sea-water.
He led the way into his room, and set her in a chair, took off his coat, turned up his sleeves, took his hair brushes, and began upon it.
It was his first essay as coiffeur, but his natural and trained deftness stood him in good stead.

He kept a watchful eye on her face in the glass, and whenever it puckered, brushed more gently; but, at times, in his absorption in his task, he so far forgot himself as to hiss like a groom cleaning a horse.