“Bon voyage!” grand’mère wished them. “How can people be allowed to race about like that! and all these do-nothings who salute them,—they couldn’t be more polite to ambassadors!”
No doubt it was an event. Every one along the road stared at the disappearing column of dust.
“It’s a strange world,” said grand’mère. “But here comes Mme. Riçois; she may tell us something about them.”
The Arrival of the Rowrers
Grand’mère had scarcely finished when the bonne opened the salon door and announced Mme. Riçois, the banker’s wife, a little woman all fire and motion, alert and dimpled and forever laughing.
“My compliments, dear Mme. Riçois. You have fine acquaintances!” grand’mère began. “You can tell us, I suppose, what has been turning our place upside down.”
“But you ought to know,” Mme. Riçois answered; “Yvonne is better acquainted with them than I am.”