When Raynes returned to his large and vulgar house on Clapham Common, he spoke to his daughter in a way which she was never likely to forget. He was, in short, furiously angry. He told her she was a bad, bad girl and that the High School at Clapham was far too good for her. Tilly had always known that the said High School was good, in fact, a great deal too good, but she wanted, if possible, to punish Margot. Although it was now finally settled that she was not to return to the school of la Princesse de Fleury, she could, nevertheless, work mischief, as far as Margot was concerned. She knew the exact date on which the little shopkeeper would return to Arles, when she would be petted by her doting and ignorant grandfather and when morning after morning she would enter the great _établissement_ and sell chapeaux and robes innumerable to the _élite_ of Arles, the _élite_ of England, the _élite_ of America. Oh, yes, she had a friend who would help her. She would write to this friend. The friend's name was Louise Grognan. Louise Grognan was a considerable character on her own account, was liked at the school of la Princesse, and was always very friendly with Tilly. Tilly wrote to her now as follows: "Oh, Louise," she began, "I am not coming back any more to your beautiful school. I regret this for many reasons, but my French by the ignorant people here is considered perfect and I am in consequence to be taught the tongue of England in all its branches. Think not that I will forget you, Louise, and sometime, perhaps, your good _père_ will allow you to come to visit me in my father's grand house. It is rich and very grand and nobly furnished. Your père Grognan can make the _filet de sole_, the _sauce Hollandaise_, the _entrée bouche à la reine_, but my father--ah, wait until you behold him, sweet Louise! Now then, to business. You know that little Comtesse who sells chapeaux of all sorts and descriptions and robes of all sorts and makes, at the _établissement_ of Madame Marcelle. We call her here the little shopkeeper and she likes it not. I went to stay with her at Desmondstown, a ramshackle old place, where they played a very cruel trick on me, and when I told them that _la petite_ Comtesse was only a little shopkeeper, they would not believe me. Now, I want you to help me, and if you do, and do the thing well, I will invite you to my gorgeous home in Angleterre next summer or perhaps even at Easter. We live close to the greatest city in the world, Londres, so big, so mighty, so powerful. It is not as graceful as Paris, but it will ravish your eyes and I will take you there day by day and you will have a glorious time. But what I want you to do now is this. The grandpère of the little Comtesse, M. le Comte St. Juste, does not know at all that his granddaughter helps at a shop. He is a very old and feeble man and he ought to be enlightened. Now, I put this into your hands, my best beloved Louise, to tell him the truth.