“He’s worried about that waiter.”

“What waiter, queen of my soul?”

“A man called Salvatore.  Father dismissed him some time ago.”

“Salvatore!”

“Probably you don’t remember him.  He used to wait on this table.”

“Why—­”

“And father dismissed him, apparently, and now there’s all sorts of trouble.  You see, father wants to build this new hotel of his, and he thought he’d got the site and everything and could start building right away:  and now he finds that this man Salvatore’s mother owns a little newspaper and tobacco shop right in the middle of the site, and there’s no way of getting him out without buying the shop, and he won’t sell.  At least, he’s made his mother promise that she won’t sell.”

“A boy’s best friend is his mother,” said Archie approvingly.  “I had a sort of idea all along—­”

“So father’s in despair.”

Archie drew at his cigarette meditatively.

“I remember a chappie—­a policeman he was, as a matter of fact, and incidentally a fairly pronounced blighter—­remarking to me some time ago that you could trample on the poor man’s face but you mustn’t be surprised if he bit you in the leg while you were doing it.  Apparently this is what has happened to the old dad.  I had a sort of idea all along that old friend Salvatore would come out strong in the end if you only gave him time.  Brainy sort of feller!  Great pal of mine."-Lucille’s small face lightened.  She gazed at Archie with proud affection.  She felt that she ought to have known that he was the one to solve this difficulty.

“You’re wonderful, darling!  Is he really a friend of yours?”

“Absolutely.  Many’s the time he and I have chatted in this very grill-room.”

“Then it’s all right.  If you went to him and argued with him, he would agree to sell the shop, and father would be happy.  Think how grateful father would be to you!  It would make all the difference.”

Archie turned this over in his mind.

“Something in that,” he agreed.

“It would make him see what a pet lambkin you really are!”

“Well,” said Archie, “I’m bound to say that any scheme which what you might call culminates in your father regarding me as a pet lambkin ought to receive one’s best attention.  How much did he offer Salvatore for his shop?”

“I don’t know.  There is father.—­Call him over and ask him.”

Archie glanced over to where Mr. Brewster had sunk moodily into a chair at a neighbouring table.  It was plain even at that distance that Daniel Brewster had his troubles and was bearing them with an ill grace.  He was scowling absently at the table-cloth.

“You call him,” said Archie, having inspected his formidable relative.  “You know him better.”

“Let’s go over to him.”

They crossed the room.  Lucille sat down opposite her father.-Archie draped himself over a chair in the background.