Madame la Comtesse, however, knew her own mind and, motioning to Margot to seat herself, entered into conversation of a very earnest and at the same time spirited nature with a young woman who sat behind a sort of raised counter. Margot was left to look around her. She was much, indeed greatly, puzzled by what she saw. What could have happened—what a very queer sort of school this was!
Presently a number of ladies came in and Margot forgot her own immediate interests in the excitement of watching them. They did not look like English ladies nor did they look like French. One of them was very large and very fat and red. She had a square figure planted on large square feet and a firm jaw indicating a tenacity of purpose, which the ill-natured might call pig-headedness. A young and very pretty French girl came up and spoke to her.
She said that she required a chapeau, condemning as she spoke the entire style of Madame Marcelle's goods.
"There is only one thing here that would suit me," she said. "See, behold!" she pointed to a very small child's hat in a corner. It was trimmed with small bunches of marguerites and violets. Her friend expostulated with her but she did not take the least notice.
"J'aime beaucoup le chapeau là," she said, pointing to the one of her choice.
"Ah," exclaimed the young French shop-girl. "Le chapeau pour la bébé. It is nice, is it not? But now, we must find something Parisian for Madame herself."
Before Margot could quite get to the end of this exciting story and find out which hat the red-faced, fat woman required, Madame la Comtesse came to her side.
"I have settled for thee, ma petite," she said. "Thou wilt come here each morning and take lessons in the making of chapeaux, then, after that is over, thou shalt have an hour in which to learn the French tongue and half an hour to do the different harmonies on the piano. Then thou wilt return to my Alphonse. Thou wilt be a very happy chère petite. See, I leave thee now under the care of Madame Marcelle."
Margot did not know whether to laugh or cry. The Comtesse whisked out of the shop amidst more nods and smiles and Madame came and took Margot's little hand.
"Behold," she said, "thou art of the ancienne noblesse. Now thou wilt learn. I myself will instruct thee. Dost thou see that woman with the red face?"