“I was not talking of her ladyship, ma’amselle,” retorted Dolly, who had aptly picked up the London ways of her fellows. “It only seemed to me that Lady Maude had taken to liking music very much.”
“Ah, yes!” said Robbins. “Miss Preen is right there.”
“Some people found fault with me for liking to listen to the organ,” said Dolly, spitefully, “but nobody says nothing about my betters.”
“Lil bébé!” ejaculated Justine scornfully.
“Not quite such a little baby as you think for, ma’amselle,” retorted Dolly, tossing her head. “I’m not blind.”
“But you are lil miserable,” said Justine, scornfully. “What can you see, pray say?”
“Lady Maude giving money to that Italian musician, and listening to him very often from the balcony.”
“Ah,” said Mrs Downes, “but it’s different there, Miss Preen. Some one I know used to look out of the window at the man, Lady Maude looks out to console herself with the music, and you knows music hath charms.”
“See how right is Madame Downes,” said Justine, smiling and nodding. “My faith, Dolly Preen, but how you are bête.”
“I don’t know French,” said Dolly, rising, “but I did look in Lady Maude’s dictionary to see what that word meant, and I won’t sit here to be called a beast by a foreigner, so there.”