For a short space the Madame puffed and wheezed in silence, then she spoke:
“We’ll get the fringe first, and have it sent up; then the Christmas gifts. Mary, what do you think Miss Kemper would like?”
“How should I now, Madame? I’m not acquainted with the young lady’s tastes,” returned the maid snappishly.
She had a raging headache, the result of an almost sleepless night spent in efforts to undo the evil effects of the rich, heavy, evening meal, indulged in by her wilful charge.
The Madame, who was feeling depressed and hysterical from the same cause, put her handkerchief to her eyes, shed a few tears, and whimpered:
“It’s shameful the way I’m treated by you, Mary. There aren’t many ladies who would put up with it as I do.”
“Handkerchiefs are always acceptable,” remarked the delinquent, ignoring the reproach, but giving the suggestion in answer to the query. Then, by way of salve to her conscience, she added: “It’s like your generosity to think of making a present to a stranger.”
This restored the Madame to good-humor. She was generous, and she liked to have full credit for it.
The day was very cold but clear and bright, and the city was full of life and activity. Vehicles jostled each other in the streets, pedestrians hurried hither and thither along the sidewalks, there was a grand display of holiday goods in the windows, and the stores were crowded with purchasers.