"I want a word with you, Master Harold," she said.
"I am in a hurry, Felicie," replied Harold, who had conceived a dislike for the French maid.
"Still, I think you can spare a few minutes," went on Felicie, smiling in an unpleasant manner.
"Well, be quick about it," said Harold, impatiently.
"I have a sister who is very sick. She is a widow with two children, and her means are very small."
"Goodness, Felicie! What is all this to me? Of course, I'm sorry for her, but I don't know her."
"She looks to me to help her," continued Felicie.
"Well, that's all right! I suppose you are going to help her."
"There is the trouble, Master Harold. I have no money on hand."
"Well, I'm sure that is unlucky, but why do you speak to me about it?"