"And a letter; yes, yes! Oh! I recognize you. But I couldn't see anything but your eyes just now, and, you see, that startled me at first. Well! you've taken your time about coming to get your shirts; anybody can see you ain't in a hurry!"
"Tell me about that poor young woman."
"She's pretty well, although she works awful hard. You see, she has to work for two now! She was confined more than two months ago; she's got a little girl, a sweet, pretty little thing."
"Ah! so much the better! And the child is with her?"
"Yes, to be sure; oh! there's no danger of her parting with the child; she nurses her herself, and never leaves her a minute; she's so afraid something'll happen to her, that she'll cry or need her care, that she wont let her out of her sight a single minute. When she goes out to buy her provisions, she carries her in her arms. Sometimes I say to her: 'Why, Madame Landernoy'—I never call her anything but madame now—'why, Madame Landernoy,' I says, 'just leave your child here with me; I'll look after little Marie while you do your errands, and you can go much quicker if you don't have her to carry.'—But she won't do it. I believe, God forgive me! that she's afraid my cats will hurt the child; but they ain't capable of it, monsieur; I've brought 'em up too well for that. They're playful and sly—that's because they're young, and we've all been young; but as for bad temper and clawing, I never saw any signs of it in 'em."
"I see that Madame Landernoy loves her daughter dearly."
"Love her! why, her daughter's her life, her thought, her heart! Ah! my word! it would be a pity not to have a child, when one's such a good mother!"
"You are right, madame; children are a burden only to those who do not know how to love them! Did the young mother consent finally to accept the work I left with you?"
"Yes, monsieur. At first, when she read your letter—she read it here in my lodge—she shook her head like a person who ain't quite convinced. What can you expect? she's suspicious, poor girl! Well! just hear me call her a girl, will you! what a stupid! The poor woman has good cause for that. A scalded cat's afraid of cold water—mine all are; I can punish 'em more, monsieur, by throwing two or three drops of water in their faces than if I took a stick to 'em."
"You were saying that when Madame Landernoy read my letter she did not seem fully convinced of the honesty of my intentions?"