I sat indoors all the morning,inditing my letter to Mr. Warrington, in which I told him exactly what had occurred, and begged him to let me have the management of my money in my own hands. I gave him a most faithful account of torn dresses, worn-out gloves, and shabby bonnets, and assured him that the very stamp I used to convey my wishes to him, I should not have been able to procure, had I not found a few centimes lying on the mantelpiece in the _salle à manger_, and annexed them boldly, under Mr. Lovett’s own eyes. Having finished my epistle I put it in my pocket, ready for the post, and went downstairs to join the girls. As I passed through the kitchen, I saw Madame Marmoret leaning her two elbows on the open window-sill, whilst she talked with the same tradesman, in the peaked cap and the belted blue blouse, who had drawn my trustee aside for a private conference as he was conducting me from the diligence to the house, on the occasion of my arrival in St. Pucelle. ‘_Tiens_, m’sieu!’ she was saying in a friendly and confidential tone, as I placed my foot on the top step of the stairs. ‘You are not worse off than I am: we must wait, wait, wait! There is no other chance for us. The time cannot be far off now. Sooner or later it must come.’ ‘But what will there be for us when it _does_ come?’ grumbled the man; ‘that is the question, Madame! I heard a great deal of this demoiselle Anglaise and all the money she was to bring with her, but where is it? I should like to see some in my hand, were it ever so little.’ ‘Bah! you are a fool to have believed the old man. You know him of old. What would he not say to silence your importunities? The demoiselle Anglaise has nothing—next to nothing! She is a pauper, _une avare_, and close-fisted as a German; and the sooner she goes back to her own country, I say, the better! We shall make nothing out of her.’ This was a pleasant speech to overhear made of myself by an insolent old woman who chose to resent her master’s impecuniosity upon me. But I resolved Madame should know that I _had_ overheard it, and stamped my foot in consequence. ‘_Tiens!_ there is some one,’ exclaimed the man, drawing backwards. Madame turned her brown face with its wicked-looking eyes towards me without altering the position of her elbows on the window-sill. ‘_Eh bien_, mamselle!’ she said, without the slightest appearance of confusion. ‘You have a light foot! I hope your heart corresponds to it!’ ‘Thank you, Madame!’ I replied, in the same manner. ‘I have a light step I believe, and a quick ear, and a retentive memory. You will never find me forget one compliment you are kind enough to pay me!’ ‘That is well,’ she laughed, as though she took my words in perfect good faith, ‘for I am very poor, you see, and any little remembrance mamselle sees fit to bestow upon me will be gratefully acknowledged.’