Poor Pupasse! God solved the dilemma of her education, and madame's increasing sensitiveness about her appearance in the fifth class, by the death of the old grandmother. She went home to the funeral, and never returned--or at least she returned, but only for madame. There was a little scene in the parlor: Pupasse, all dressed in black, with her bag of primary books in her hand, ready and eager to get back to her classes and fools' caps; madame, hesitating between her interests and her fear of ridicule; Madame Joubert, between her loyalty to school and her conscience. Pupasse the only one free and untrammeled, simple and direct. That little school parlor had been the stage for so many scenes! Madame Joubert detested acting--the comedy, as she called it. There was nothing she punished with more pleasure up in her room. And yet-- "Pupasse, _ma fille_, give me your grammar." The old battered, primitive book was gotten out of the bag, the string still tied between the leaves for convenience in hanging around the neck. "Your last punishment: the rule for irregular verbs. Commence!" "I know it, Madame Joubert; I know it perfectly, I assure you." "Commence!" "Irregular verbs--but I assure you I know it--I know it by heart--" "Commence, _ma fille!_" "Irregular verbs--irregular verbs--I know it, Madame Joubert--one moment--" and she shook her right hand, as girls do to get inspiration, they say. "Irregular verbs--give me one word, Madame Joubert; only one word!" "That--" "Irregular verbs, that--irregular verbs, that--" "See here, Pupasse; you do not know that lesson any more than a cat does"--Madame Joubert's favorite comparison. "Yes, I do, Madame Joubert! Yes, I do!" "Silence!" "But, Madame Joubert--" "Will you be silent!" "Yes, Madame Joubert; only--" "Pupasse, one more word--and--" Madame Joubert was forgetting her comedy--"Listen, Pupasse, and obey! You go home and learn that lesson. When you know it, you can reënter your class. That is the punishment I have thought of to correct your 'want of attention.'" That was the way Madame Joubert put it--"want of attention." Pupasse looked at her--at madame, a silent but potent spectator. To be sent from home because she did not know the rule of the irregular verbs! To be sent from home, family, friends!--for that was the way Pupasse put it. She had been in that school--it may only be whispered--fifteen years. Madame Joubert knew it; so did madame, although they accounted for only four or five years in each class. That school was her home; Madame Joubert--God help her!--her mother; madame, her divinity; fools' caps and turned-up skirts, her life. The old grandmother--she it was who had done everything for her (a _ci-devant_ rag-picker, they say); she it was who was nothing to her.