This cream was Pauline's custard, and while Jean was serving Mrs. Scott:
"I have not yet finished," she continued. "You ought to know what gave rise to these extravagant stories. A year ago, when we settled in Paris, we considered it our duty on our arrival to give a certain sum to the poor. Who was it spoke of that? None of us, certainly, but the thing was told in a newspaper, with the amount. Immediately two young reporters hastened to subject Mr. Scott to a little examination on his past history; they wished to give a sketch of our career in the—what do you call them?—society papers. Mr. Scott is sometimes a little hasty; he was so on this occasion, and dismissed these gentlemen rather brusquely, without telling them anything. So, as they did not know our real history, they invented one, and certainly displayed a very lively imagination. First they related how I had begged in the snow in New York; the next day appeared a still more sensational article, which made me a rider in a circus in Philadelphia. You have some very funny papers in France; so have we in America, for the matter of that."
During the last five minutes, Pauline had been making desperate signs to the Cure, who persisted in not understanding them, till at last the poor woman, calling up all her courage, said:
"Monsieur le Cure, it is a quarter past seven."
"A quarter past seven! Ladies, I must beg you to excuse me. This evening I have the special service for the month of Mary."
"The month of Mary? And will the service begin directly?"
"Yes, directly."
"And when does our train start for Paris?"
"At half past nine," replied Jean.
"Susie, can we not go to church first?"