“With the money I have saved,” I answered, “and this very morning. Everyone is asleep at home. I shall go and pack my trunk and start at once with you!”
“No, no, I cannot go!” exclaimed Mme. Guérard, nearly beside herself. “There is my husband to think of and, then, too, I have my children.”
Her little girl was scarcely two years old at that time.
“Well, then, ma petite dame, find me some one to go with me.”
“I do not know anyone,” she answered, crying in her excitement. “My dear little Sarah, give up such an idea, I beseech you.”
But by this time it was a fixed idea with me and I was very determined about it. I went downstairs, packed my trunk, and then returned to Mme. Guérard’s. I had wrapped up a pewter fork in paper and this I threw against one of the panes of glass in a skylight window opposite. The window was opened abruptly and the sleepy, angry face of a young woman appeared. I made a trumpet of my two hands and called out:
“Caroline, will you start with me at once to Spain?”
The bewildered expression on the young woman’s face showed that she had not comprehended what I had said, but she replied at once:
“I am coming, mademoiselle.” She then closed her window and ten minutes later Caroline was tapping at the door. Mme. Guérard had sunk down aghast in an armchair. M. Guérard had asked several times from his bedroom what was going on.
“Sarah is here,” his wife had replied; “I will tell you later on.”