“She still has faith! And you, Molly Brown Green! Oh, ye of little faith! What right have you to be a clog and burden? Take another glass of milk this minute and keep up your health and your baby’s health.” This to herself, and aloud: “Why, Mumsy, I want to stay right here. Little Mildred is thriving and Edwin is doing very well at Wellington. Every one is asking him out to dine, now that he is untrammelled with a wife. He reports a big gain in attendance on last semestre and is as cheerful as can be. Caroline, please bring me another glass of milk, and I think I’ll get you to soft boil another egg for me!”
CHAPTER VIII.
DES HALLES.
Mère Tricot called Judy just at dawn. The kindly old grenadier stood over her, and this was no dream—she held a real cup of coffee.
“The good man is ready. I hate to wake you, but if you want to go to market with him, it is time.”
“Oh, yes! It won’t take me a minute.”
Judy gulped the coffee and dived into her clothes. There seemed to be no question of baths with the good Tricots, and Judy made a mental note that she would go every day to the Bents’ studio for her cold plunge. A bathroom is the exception and not the rule in the poorer class of apartments in Paris. In New York, any apartment worthy of the name boasts a bathroom, but not so in the French city.
Père Tricot was waiting for her with his little green push cart to bring home the purchases to be made in market. He was dressed in a stiff, clean, blue blouse and his kindly, lank old face was freshly shaven.
“Ah, Mam’selle! So you will go with the old man?”