"Ah! And madame?"
"Hammers me."
"And you?"
"Rags."
"Now, Fouchette, which is 'the' Podvin?"
"Madame, of course!"
The young woman laughed merrily, and Fouchette gave forth a singular, low, unmusical tinkle. She was astonished that the young lady should put such a question, then amused as she thought of Mother Podvin playing second to anybody.
"What a lively little girl you are, Fouchette!" said her questioner, pleasantly.
"It's the fleas, ma'm'selle."
"W-wh-what?"