“One moment, monsieur; you’re in a terrible hurry,” said Madame Monin, trying to find something by which to recognize him.
“Get off me, madame, I can’t stand it any longer!” cried the young man, turning purple.
“It seems to me, monsieur, that you’re not so much to be pitied, having me on your knees.”
“I am suffocating, madame.”
The buxom dame persisted; but as everybody dreaded to receive her on his knees, it was proposed to draw forfeits at once, despite the remonstrances of Madame Monin, who was determined to sit on Monsieur Bisbis’s lap, although he swore that he had nothing to identify him.
One of the three sisters had the forfeits wrapped in the skirt of her dress. A young officer put in his hand to draw, and spent a very long time mixing them up, so that there should be no cheating. Athalie directed operations. She told the young officer to draw; but he evidently had some difficulty in getting hold, for he was a long time deciding to remove his hand from its hiding-place in the folds of the young lady’s dress. At last the forfeit was brought forth; it belonged to the school-girl, and she was told to tell somebody something in confidence. She hesitated, uncertain to whom she should turn, or rather because she was afraid to select her little cousin, at whom she glanced furtively, with a blush. But her mamma was there, so she chose Monsieur Monin for her confidant.
Monin, who had slipped behind his wife’s chair, was amazed when the girl said to him:
“Will you come with me, monsieur?”
The ex-druggist did not know what to do, so he leaned over his better half and whispered: