Ethel Watts Mumford

“ I have thought perhaps the tooth paste will trouble Mademoiselle's mother. Well, that will be all right—I fix. Déjol is good for dentifrice, but it is no name for Mademoiselle Yolande—Parfaitement!—and you will want ancestors. It is always so in the country democratic. That was what make Napoleon popular—he make washwomen duchesses, he make the gamins Maréchals of France, all right. I have ancestors to-morrow."
In vain Mrs. Challoner summoned her dignity, in vain she strove to explain that "They really must not." Déjol was no more to be withstood than a delightful, friendly young tornado. ”

“ Do I make public my process for making the Déjol silent big gun? No! Do I permit to make my 'projectile Déjol'—that would tear his, this Folsome's, little paper armor like so much gold leaf? No!—a thousand times. But patent, I do. That no other shall ever perpetrate upon this world, so mangled, and torn by war, these so deadly things—no! Me, and before me, my father, work for the good, the help of mankind. Our money has not come from blood and tears. Millions can go by—I will not take them from engines of destruction. ”

“ Bending devotedly toward the beautiful American, he continued his intimate chat. What did she like? Travel or chateau life? What was her favorite color, and what the flower she preferred? And did she like dogs? What kind of dogs? Was she fond of athletics? And did she like to sit up late?
Mrs. Challoner would have broken up the tête-à-tête, but Cupid had a powerful ally in the big man with the snapping black eyes and the rumbling voice. ”

“ Mr. Loomis will tell you I am not a ladies' man. I am a hard-working inventor, manufacturer. I do not take many things to heart, but when——"
"Well," the chaperone interrupted, "you will please not take Miss Folsome to your heart until you are given permission—but what is all the cheering about?"
Déjol jumped. "Mon Dieu! It is the race! I had forgot. Mon Dieu!—what is that? Ah—ah, a—! Tonique! There, I told you! Your horse has won, Mademoiselle. It is the good omen—congratulations! I must kiss the hand!"
He kissed both—and two more protesting, reluctant ones belonging to Mrs. Challoner. ”

“ Benjamin Loomis turned an anxious inquiring glance on the little chaperone. Clearly he was calling for help but his despairing S.O.S. received no comforting reply. Her face was enigmatic—he sighed. He had hoped—just a little hope—that Mrs. Challoner was relenting. ”

“ She realized that she was tired; that the young Goth beside her seemed a tower of strength and protection. She closed her eyes with a little sigh of content. When she opened them again the motor was rolling over the pavements of Paris. ”

“ Does he think that it is better to invent dynamite and lyddite—or to make plates for the warships, or guns to kill—hein? The fool! If he is your father, my dearest, still I must call him so. Ha! It makes me laugh. I could have such— what you call, renown, too—if I were not first of all a human man. ”

“ In the salon of their suite the two women faced each other.
"Tooth powder!" gasped Mrs. Challoner. "Whoever would have thought! Of course, your mother, my dear, won't care for you to keep up the acquaintance."
"Hair tonic!" added Yolande in a tragic whisper. "But, oh! I do like him," she murmured under her breath.
MORNING brought a huge basket of American Beauties, and noon deposited at Yolande's shrine a miniature Pomeranian puppy with a gold collar. An avalanche of flowers for Mrs. Challoner bore a note in the impressive scrawl of Benjamin Loomis:
"Now, don't boggle over tooth powder ”