t interfere for the world. Well, then,
I will go and give the necessary orders for everything being punctual
to that hour. Those two girls have so much to say to each other that we
must give them as much time as we can."

"Then we shall leave you at three o'clock, my dear Madame Dubreuil?"

"Yes; I promise not to detain you since you so positively wish it. But
pray let me thank you again and again for coming. What a good thing it
was I thought of sending to ask your kind assistance," rejoined Madame
Dubreuil. "Now then, Clara and Marie, off with you!"

As Madame Georges settled herself to her writing, Madame Dubreuil
quitted the room by a door on one side, while the young friends, in
company with the servant who had announced the arrival of the milkwoman
from Stains, went out by the opposite side.

"Where is the poor woman?" inquired Clara.

"There she is, mademoiselle, in the courtyard, near the barns, with her
children and her little donkey-cart."

"You shall see her, dear Marie," said Clara, taking the arm of la
Goualeuse. "Poor woman! she looks so pale and sad in her deep widow's
mourning. The last time she came here to arrange with my mother about
the place she made my heart ache. She wept bitterly as she spoke of her
husband; then suddenly burst into a fit of rage as she mentioned his
murderer. Really, she quite frightened me, she looked so desperate and
full of fury. But, after all, her resentment was natural. Poor thing! I
am sure I pity her; some people are very unfortunate, are they not,
Marie?"

"Alas, yes, they are, indeed!" replied the Goualeuse, sighing deeply.
"There are some persons who appear born only to trouble and sorrow, as
you justly observe, Miss Clara."

"This is really very unkind of you, Marie," said Clara, colouring with
impatience and displeasure. "This is the second time to-day you have
called me 'Miss Clara.' What can I have possibly done to offend you?
For I am sure you must be angry with me, or you would not do what you
know vexes me so very much."

"How is it possible that you could ever offend me?"

"Then why do you say 'miss?' You know very well that both Madame Georges
and my mother have scolded you for doing it. And I give you due warning,
if ever you repeat this great offence, I will have you well scolded
again. Now then, will you be good or not? Speak!"

"Dear Clara, pray pardon me! Indeed, I was not thinking when I spoke."

"Not thinking!" repeated Clara, sorrowfully