“By no means, my daughter!” Mme. de Grojean protested.
“Yes, yes! I assure you. Look at the fashion-paper. I must find out for myself,” Yvonne concluded gravely, with her chin in her hand and her eyes fixed on the engraving. “I shall have to ask Cousin Henri, who was present at the last ball of the prefecture.”
“Yvonne,” said the grandmother, stopping her knitting, “Yvonne, really, you have nothing but dresses in your head. Rather than lose your time on such trifles, you’d do better to finish picking the lint for the soldiers.”
“Grand’mère, here’s the circus coming!” Yvonne interrupted suddenly, as she looked out on the place.
Watching the Arrival of the Rowrers
“Those mountebanks?” grand’mère said, looking in her turn. “They are coming to the fair, just as they do every year. It must be they—I can tell by the dust they make. Only the big drum is lacking to make it complete.”
In fact, an odd-looking vehicle had drawn up in the place. It was an immense auto, like a top-carriage behind and torpedo-like in front. In the carriage part two ladies were seated; two men occupied the torpedo-end. They wore big smoked glasses, which made them look like frogs, while the enormous auto, spitting and snorting, shook up its passengers, and rattled the canes and umbrellas in the wicker basket behind.