“Nay,” said Catherine, “that would be an idle errand and father would not have set it for Master Pitou while he would not have accepted it.”
Pitou rolled his frightened eyes from one to the other: all his castle in the air came tumbling down. A true woman, the younger one understood his painful disappointment.
“Did you see the girls in Paris with the young men tagging at their gown-tails?”
“But you are not a girl, after you become mistress of the house,” remonstrated Pitou.
“Enough chatter,” interrupted Mother Billet; “the mistress of the house has too much work to do. Come, Catherine, and let me turn over things to you, as your father bids us.”
As soon as the house was placed under the new ruler the servants and workmen were presented to her as the one from whom in the future orders would flow. Each departed with the alacrity shown by the new officials at the beginning of a fresh term.
“What about me?” inquired Pitou, left alone and going up to the girl.
“I have no orders for you. What do you think of doing?”
“What I did before I went away.”
“Then you worked for my father and mother. I have nothing in your line, for you are a scholar and a fine Paris gentleman now.”