stood a long
building of two stories, and a steep roof with dormer windows, every
casement of which was provided, like the house in the front, with rich
lace curtains and Venetian shutters. The whole place was clearly in good
order and good taste, and looked like a very pleasant home. It would
probably be my home for a time, and I scrutinized it the more closely.
Which of those sunny casements would be mine? What nook in that garden
would become my favorite? If I could only get there undetected, how
secure and happy I might be!

Above the photograph was written in ornamental characters, "Pensionnat
de Demoiselles, a Noireau, Calvados." Underneath it were the words,
"Fonde par M. Emile Perrier, avocat, et par son epouse." Though I knew
very little of French, I could make out the meaning of these sentences.
Monsieur Perrier was an _avocat_. Tardif had happened to speak to me
about the notaries in Guernsey, who appeared to me to be of the same
rank as our solicitors, while the _avocats_ were on a par with our
barristers. A barrister founding a boarding-school for young ladies
might be somewhat opposed to English customs, but it was clear that he
must be a man of education and position; a gentleman, in fact.

"Isn't it a lovely place?" asked the child beside me, with a deep sigh
of longing.

"Yes," I said; "I should like to go."

I had had time to make all these observations before the owner of the
foreign voice, which I had heard at the door, came in. At the first
glance I knew her to be a Frenchwoman, with the peculiar yellow tone in
her skin which seems inevitable in middle-aged Frenchwomen. Her black
eyes were steady and cold, and her general expression one of
watchfulness. She had wrapped tightly about her a China crape shawl,
which had once been white, but had now the same yellow tint as her
complexion. The light was low, but she turned it a little higher, and
scrutinized me with a keen and steady gaze.

"I have not the honor of knowing you," she said politely.

"I come from Ridley's agency-office," I answered, "about a situation as
English teacher in a school in France."

"Be seated, miss," she said, pointing me to a stiff, high-backed chair,
whither the little girl followed me, stroking with her hand the soft
seal-skin jacket I was wearing.

"It is a great chance," she continued; "my friend Madame Perrier is very
good, very amiable for her teachers. She is like a sister for them. The
terms are very high, v