umbrella,
that was out of the question; her husband should not have another.

The friend very sensibly said that in that case his clothes would be
spoilt, and they were certainly worth more than the umbrella. But the
little woman, who was still in a rage, replied:

"Very well, then, when it rains he may have the kitchen umbrella, for I
will not give him a new silk one."

Oreille utterly rebelled at such an idea.

"All right," he said; "then I shall resign my post. I am not going to
the office with the kitchen umbrella."

The friend interposed:

"Have this one re-covered; it will not cost much."

But Mme. Oreille, being in the temper that she was, said:

"It will cost at least eight francs to re-cover it. Eight and eighteen
are twenty-six. Just fancy, twenty-six francs for an umbrella! It is
utter madness!"

The friend, who was only a poor man of the middle-classes, had an
inspiration:

"Make your Fire Assurance pay for it. The companies pay for all articles
that are burnt, as long as the damage has been done in your own house."

On hearing this advice the little woman calmed down immediately, and
then, after a moment's reflection, she said to her husband:

"To-morrow, before going to your office, you will go to the _Maternelle_
Assurance Company, show them the state your umbrella is in, and make
them pay for the damage."

M. Oreille fairly jumped, he was so startled at the proposal.

"I would not do it for my life! It is eighteen francs lost that is all.
It will not ruin us."

The next morning he took a walking-stick when he went out, and, luckily,
it was a fine day.

Left at home alone, Mme. Oreille could not get over the loss of her
eighteen francs by any means. She had put the umbrella on the
dining-room table, and she looked at it without being able to come to
any determination.

Every moment she thought of the Assurance Company, but she did not dare
to encounter the quizzical looks of the gentlemen who might receive her,
for she was very timid before people, and grew red at a mere nothing,
and was embarrassed when she had to speak to strangers.

But the regret at the loss of the eighteen francs pained her as if she
had been wounded. She tried not to think of it any more, and yet every
moment the recollection of the loss struck her painfully. What was she
to do, however? Time went on, and she could not decide; but suddenly,
like all cowards, on becoming determined, she made up her mind.

"I