'And now I must buy the lunch,' she said. 'I must go myself. Excuse me.'

She disappeared into the adjoining room, the bedroom, and Henry could
hear the _fracas_ of silk and stuff. 'What do you eat for lunch?' she
cried out.

'Anything,' Henry called in reply.

'Oh! _Que les hommes sont betes!_' she murmured, her voice seemingly
lost in the folds of a dress. 'One must choose. Say.'

'Whatever you like,' said Henry.

'Rumsteak? Say.'

'Oh yes,' said Henry.

She reappeared in a plain black frock, with a reticule in her hand, and
at the same moment a fox-terrier wandered in from somewhere.

'_Mimisse!_' she cried in ecstasy, snatching up the animal and kissing
it. 'You want to go with your mamma? Yess. What do you think of my
_fox_? She is real English. _Elle est si gentille avec sa mere! Ma
Mimisse! Ma petite fille!_ My little girl! _Dites, mon ami_'--she
abandoned the dog--'have you some money for our lunch? Five francs?'

'That enough?' Henry asked, handing her the piece.

'Thank you,' she said. '_Viens, Mimisse._'

'You haven't put your hat on,' Henry informed her.

'_Mais, mon pauvre ami_, is it that you take me for a duchess? I come
from the _ouvriers_, me, the working peoples. I avow it. Never can I do
my shops in a hat. I should blush.'

And with a tremendous flutter, scamper, and chatter, Cosette and her
_fox_ departed, leaving Henry solitary to guard the flat.

He laughed to himself, at himself. 'Well,' he murmured, looking down
into the court, 'I suppose----'

Cosette came back with a tin of sardines, a piece of steak, some French
beans, two cakes of the kind called 'nuns,' a bunch of grapes, and a
segment of Brie cheese. She put on an apron, and went into the
kitchenlet, and began to cook, giving Henry instructions the while how
to lay the table and where to find the things. Then she brought him the
coffee-mill full of coffee, and told him to grind it.

The lunch seemed to be ready in about three minutes, and it was merely
perfection. Such steak, such masterly handling of green vegetables, and
such 'nuns!' And the wine!

There were three at table, Mimisse being the third. Mimisse partook of
everything except wine.

'You see I am a woman _pot-au-feu_,' said Cosette, not without
satisfaction, in response to his praises of the meal. He did not exactly
know what a woman _pot-au-feu_ might be, but he agreed enthusiastically
that she was that sort of woman.

At the stage of coffee--Mimisse