"Madame," began Suzanne, vehemently, "I must ask you to find another femme-de-ménage for me immediately, if you please—your Angélique that I settled with here has never turned up!"
"There you are!" cried Pariset. "Everybody says the same thing."
"Mais, monsieur!" snorted the proprietress. "Your affair is finished—the business of mademoiselle does not concern you."
"Pardon, madame, my affair is not finished; on the contrary, my need is dire. I have offspring who clamour for female ministrations, voyons. Mademoiselle will accept my apologies?"
"They are superfluous, monsieur," said Suzanne, acknowledging his bow. "But, madame, my case is urgent! I go into my new appartement in the morning, and there is nobody there yet to shake a mat or light a fire."
"And what a job it is to light a fire!" put in Pariset, with fellow feeling.
"The life they lead us, these bonnes!" responded Suzanne.
"Above all, mademoiselle, when one has two little children and is without experience. Figure yourself my confusion!"
"Dreadful, monsieur! I can imagine it."
"What do you expect me to say to you, you two?" shouted the fat woman, banging the table. "I tell you that there is no bonne waiting just now. Am I le bon Dieu to create model domestics out of the dust on the office floor?"