"A sort of Julie le Breton?" said Susan, with sparkling eyes. She resolved to begin piano practice for two hours a day to-morrow.
"I beg pardon? Yes--yes, exactly, so I'm going to write Lillian at once, and she'll put the wheels in motion!"
"I don't know what good angel ever made you think of ME," said Susan.
"Don't you?" the man asked, in a low tone. There was a pause. Both stared at the fire. Suddenly Bocqueraz cleared his throat.
"Well!" he said, jumping up, "if this clock is right it's after half-past six. Where are these good people?"
"Here they are--there's the car coming in the gate now!" Susan said in relief. She ran out to the steps to meet them.
A day or two later, as she was passing Ella's half-open doorway, Ella's voice floated out into the hall.
"That you, Susan? Come in. Will you do your fat friend a favor?" Ella, home again, had at once resumed her despotic control of the household. She was lying on a couch at this moment, lazily waving a scribbled half sheet of paper over her head.
"Take this to Mrs. Pullet, Sue," said she, "and ask her to tell the cook, in some confidential moment, that there are several things written down here that he seems to have forgotten the existence of. I want to see them on the table, from time to time. While I was with the Crewes I was positively MORTIFIED at the memory of our meals! And from now on, while Mr. Bocqueraz's here, we'll be giving two dinners a week."
"While--?" Susan felt a delicious, a terrifying weakness run like a wave from head to feet.