heir food; not with impassioned rancour but in the natural order of
things--as others might discuss the book of the moment or the play of the
year or scandal or Charlie Chaplin or the thundering fiasco of
Versailles--these two discussed each other's failings with utmost candour
and freedom of expression: handling their subjects without gloves; never
hesitating to touch upon topics not commonly mentioned in civil intercourse
or to use the apt, unprintable word; never dreaming of politely terming a
damned old hoe a spade; tossing the ball of recrimination to and fro with
masterly ease.

Their preoccupation with this pastime was so thoroughgoing that Mama
Therese even failed to notice the passage of the postman on his last round
of the day. Ordinarily, for reasons best known to herself and which Sofia
had never thought to question, Mama Therese preferred personally to receive
all letters and contrived to be on hand at the postman's customary hours of
call. But to-night she only realized that he had come and gone when,
happening to glance toward the caisse, she saw Sofia shuffling the
half-dozen envelopes which had been left with her.

Immediately Mama Therese pushed back the table and got up, wiping chin and
moustache with her napkin as she rolled toward the desk.

But she was too late. Already Sofia had sorted out and was staring in blank
wonder at an envelope addressed to Mama Therese and bearing in its upper
left-hand corner the imprint of its origin:

_Secretan & Sypher
Solicitors
Lincoln's Inn
Fields London, W.C. 3._

As yet she was simply startled by the coincidence, her brain had not had
time to absorb its full significance--that Mama Therese should receive a
communication from these distinctively named solicitors on the evening of
the very day on which they advertised concerning a young woman named
Sofia!--when the letter was snatched out of her hand, a torrent of
objurgation was loosed upon her devoted head, and she looked into the black
scowl of the Frenchwoman.

"Sneak! Spying little cat! How dare you pry into my letters?"

"But, Mama Therese--!"

"Be still, you! Has one asked you to speak? Give me those others"--Mama
Therese with a vast show of violence appropriated them from Sofia's
unresisting grasp--"and after this keep your nose of a mouchard out of what
doesn't concern you!"

"But, Mama Therese!--"

"Hold your tongue. I wish to hear nothing from you, I hear too much--yes,
and see too much, to