Immediately the other American ladies buzzed round the brown hat and round the brown fan, and little Margot found herself acting as shopwoman and enjoying herself immensely.
"And now the price, Mademoiselle la Comtesse," said the red-faced American, when all the ladies had been provided with hats and fans.
"I know not," said Margot. "Madame, you will tell the price. For me, I am fatiguée." She marched away, hearing however behind her a perfect buzz of remonstrance.
The prices were monstrous—they were absurd. They were beyond even thinking about.
Madame stood calmly by, holding a pile of hats with brown feathers in her hand.
"It is the will of la petite Comtesse," she remarked, and then again she stood silent.
By-and-bye the hustle grew so great, the noise so animated, that Margot wondered how the whole thing would end and when these horrid, disagreeable women would leave the shop. But after storm there came peace. The brown hats and the brown fans hastily arranged themselves, the money was paid, one hundred and fifty francs for each chapeau, and one hundred and thirty francs for each fan.
Madame danced up to Margot and kissed her several times.
"We have made—we have made—oh, so much for your dot, little one," she said. "You are the very best saleswoman I ever knew. What will our sweet Madame la Comtesse say when we tell her! Six chapeaux at 150 francs apiece, six fans at 130 francs apiece! Ah, but it is marvellous! You have the natural gift, little one. Come with me now, into the apartment, where we sell the robes of all sorts and colours. You will make the fortune of this place, little Comtesse."
"I will not go with you, Madame," cried little Margot. "This is not a school—it is a shop. I want to learn my French. I demand that I learn it. I will not again give counsel about hats for ugly women."