"Yes, monsieur; she has three hundred francs."
"Well?"
"Well, that don't make any difference; when she does an errand—for instance, when her master sends her with a letter to one of his friends, or anywhere else—well, that's fifteen sous; she charges a commission of fifteen sous. When she has to wash the windows, it's twenty sous. When she scrubs, it's twenty-five sous; do you see?"
"Perfectly. So it's just the same as if he hadn't any servant; that's very convenient!"
"She calls that putting the masters where they belong."
"Just try putting me where I belong! I'll discharge you on the instant."
"However, it seems that Rosalie's master never found any fault with all that; but the other night he told her to warm his bed; and when she charged him twelve sous for it the next day, that made him mad. I says to her: 'I must say, mamzelle, it seems to me, you might warm your master's bed for nothing!'—'Well, I guess not!' says she; 'he'd get into the habit of having it done every night!'"
"Peste! there's a servant who will make her way in the world."
"She's making it, monsieur; she tells me that she takes thirty-six francs to the savings bank every month."
"And her wages are only twenty-five! She has the saving instinct, sure!"