“Stay there, idiot!” growled Juliana, without moving.
But the angry accents of Luiza ascended from the floor below,—
“Juliana!”
“One cannot even eat in peace. Detestable house, plague take it!” exclaimed Juliana, striking the table violently with the bowl of her spoon.
“Juliana!” called Luiza a second time.
“The mistress is getting angry,” said the cook in a low voice, turning towards Juliana.
“The deuce take her!” said the latter.
She wiped her lips, greasy with the soup, on her apron, and went downstairs, furious.
“Did you not hear?” exclaimed Luiza. “The bell has been ringing for an hour.”
Juliana opened her eyes in amazement as she looked at her mistress; Luiza was dressed in her new morning-gown of brown foulard with little yellow dots.