or twice a day already, the face he was ever looking for. But he
had not; nor did he to-day. He only saw, or thought he saw, the
cashier--I should say the cashieress--glance crosswise at him with
eyes that seemed to him to say:

"Fool; sneak; whelp; 'Cajun; our private detectives are watching
you."

Both rooms and the veranda were full of ladies and gentlemen whose
faces he dared not lift his eyes to look into. And yet even in that
frame there suddenly came to him one of those happy thoughts that are
supposed to be the inspirations of inventive genius. A pleasant little
female voice near him said:

"And apartments up-stairs that they rent to ladies only!" And
instantly the thought came that Marguerite and her mother might be
living there. One more lump of bread, a final gulp of coffee, a short
search for the waiter's check, and he stands at the cashieress's desk.
She makes change without looking at him or ceasing to tell a small
hunchbacked spinster standing by about somebody's wedding. But
suddenly she starts.

"Oh! wasn't that right? You gave me four bits, didn't you? And I gave
you back two bits and a picayune, and--sir? Does Madame who? Oh! yes.
I didn't understand you; I'm a little deaf on this side; scarlet fever
when I was a little girl. I'm not the regular cashier, she's gone to
attend the wedding of a lady friend. Just wait a moment, please, while
I make change for these ladies. Oh, dear! ma'am, is that the smallest
you've got? I don't believe I can change that, ma'am. Yes--no--stop!
yes, I can! no, I can't! let's see! yes, yes, yes, I can; I've got it;
yes, there! I didn't think I had it." She turned again to Claude with
sisterly confidence. "Excuse me for keeping you waiting; haven't I met
you at the Y. M. C. A. sociable? Well, you must excuse me, but I was
sure I had. Of course I didn't if you was never there; but you know in
a big city like this you're always meeting somebody that's ne-e-early
somebody else that you know--oh! didn't you ask me--oh, yes! Madame
Beausoleil! Yes, she lives here, she and her daughter. But she's not
in. Oh! I'm sorry. Neither of them is here. She's not in the city;
hasn't been for two weeks. They're coming back; we're expecting them
every day. She heard of the death of a relative down in Terrebonne
somewhere. I wish they _would_ come back; we miss them here; I judge
they're relatives of yours, if I don't mistake the resemblance; you
seem to take after the daughter; wait a m