"I should say so," said Celestina, "and there's no reason for you to go back there either."
"Now none of your sermons, you know, for if you come on with anything like that I'll be leaving at once," and it was clear that the Breton's bad humor was returning.
"Well, that would be to your disadvantage on a cold day like this," said
Celestina with a dry little smile.
"That's a fact, that's a fact. Brr! What weather!" and the poor drunkard drew closer to the fire. "Aren't you two afraid to go out in such a snowstorm?" he said, turning to Paula and me.
Celestina answered for us that we lived in the big house at "The Convent," and that we had come to deliver a good warm dress for her to wear. With that the good woman poured out three cups of coffee, which she set before the Breton, Paula and myself. "And where's yours?" said the Breton as he swallowed his coffee in one great gulp.
"Oh, some other time I'll have a cup myself."
"Well, just as you please," said our unwelcome guest. "My! but that warms one up though! My wife never so much as thought to get me a cup of coffee."
"And do you know why?" questioned Celestina severely.
"I suppose you're going to tell me it's because I don't give her enough money; is that it?"
"Precisely! And that's the truth; isn't it?"