“Louise!” said Esther, hastily, “what did you tell her your name was?”
“I just said ‘Louise’.”
Esther pointed to the name painted on the trunk,
Louise Lévy.
“It is the hand of Providence,” she said. “Somehow, now, I’m sure you’re quite right to go.”
And neither of these conscientious young ladies reflected for one minute on the discomfort which might be occasioned to Madame Rémy by the defection of her new servant a half-hour before dinner-time on Saturday night.
| ✳ | ✳ | ✳ | ✳ | ✳ |
“Oh, child, it’s you, is it?” was Mme. Rémy’s greeting at twelve o’clock on Saturday. “Well, you’re punctual—and you look clean. Now, are you going to break my dishes or are you going to steal my rings? Well, we’ll find out soon enough. Your trunk’s up in your room. Go up to the servants’ quarters—right at the top of those stairs there. Ask for the room that belongs to apartment 11. You are to room with their girl.”
