unds of the
toilsome evening on the other side of the door, longing for the vision
of all those pretty heads bending over around the lamp. M. Joyeuse
never mentioned his daughters. As jealous of their charms as a dragon
standing guard over lovely princesses in a tower, aroused to vigilance
by the fanciful imaginings of his doting affection, he replied dryly
enough to his pupil's questions concerning "the young ladies," so that
the young man ceased to mention them to him. He was surprised, however,
that he never happened to see this "Grandmamma" whose name recurred
constantly in M. Joyeuse's conversation upon every subject, in the most
trivial details of his existence, hovering over the house like the
symbol of its perfect orderliness and tranquillity.

Such extreme reserve, on the part of a venerable lady, who in all
probability had passed the age at which the adventurous spirit of a
young man is to be feared, seemed to him exaggerated. But the lessons
were very practical, given in very clear language, and the professor
had an excellent method of demonstration, marred by a single fault, a
habit of relapsing into fits of silence, broken by starts and
interjections that went off like bombs. Outside of that he was the best
of masters, intelligent, patient and faithful. Paul learned to find his
way through the complicated labyrinth of books of account and resigned
himself to the necessity of asking nothing further.

One evening, about nine o'clock, as the young man rose to go, M.
Joyeuse asked him if he would do him the honor to take a cup of tea
_en famille_, a custom of the time of Madame Joyeuse, born Saint-Amand,
who used to receive her friends on Thursdays. Since her death, and the
change in their financial position, their friends had scattered; but
they had retained that little "weekly extra." Paul having accepted, the
good man opened the door and called:

"Grandmamma."

A light step in the hall and a face of twenty years, surrounded by a
nimbus of abundant, fluffy brown hair, abruptly made its appearance. De
Gery looked at M. Joyeuse with an air of stupefaction:

"Grandmamma?"

"Yes, it's a name we gave her when she was a little girl. With her
frilled cap, and her authoritative older-sister expression, she had a
funny little face, so wise-looking. We thought that she looked like her
grandmother. The name has clung to her."

From the worthy man's tone, it was evident that to him it was the most
natural thing