"Silk-paper?" repeated Tynn, whom the item puzzled. "What's that?"
"You know not what silk-paper is!" angrily returned Mademoiselle Benoite. "Quelle ignorance!" she apostrophised, not caring whether she was understood or not. "Ellé ne connait pas ce que c'est, papier-de-soie! I must have it, and a great deal of it, do you hear? It is as common as anything—silk-paper."
"Things common in France mayn't be common with us," retorted Mrs. Tynn. "What is it for?"
"It is for some of these articles. If I put them by without the paper-silk round them in the cartons, they'll not keep their colour."
"Perhaps you mean silver-paper," said Mary Tynn. "Tissue-paper, I have heard my Lady Verner call it. There's none in the house, Madmisel Bennot."
"Madmisel Bennot" stamped her foot. "A house without silk-paper in it! When you knew my lady was coming home!"
"I didn't know she'd bring—a host of things with her that she has brought," was the answering shaft lanced by Mrs. Tynn.
"Don't you see that I am waiting? Will you send out for some?"
"It's not to be had in Deerham," said Mrs. Tynn. "If it must be had, one of the men must go to Heartburg Why won't the paper do that was over 'em before?"
"There not enough of that. And I choose to have fresh, I do."