"Did she cry it down?" quickly asked madame. "She said it was as dear as fire's hot." "Par exemple!" uttered madame, with a flashing face. "Did she say that?" "Yes, madame. So Robert told me when he brought it back." "She's the most insolent customer we have, that Femme Ac-corn," exploded madame. "And pays the worst. The robe would have been cheap at the price I asked her--eighty guineas." "Mrs. Dalrymple, lace robe, one hundred guineas," read Mrs. Cooper. "What else?--making?" "Making, two guineas. Peach glacé slip comes next." "Peach glacé slip," wrote Mrs. Cooper. "The price, if you please?" "Put it down in round figures. Ten guineas. She did not ask." "I sold her those morning sleeves with the little dots," interposed Miss Wells. "There was no price mentioned, madame." "What were they marked?" asked madame. "Fourteen and sixpence." "Put them down at a guinea, Mrs. Cooper. Making peach glacé slip--let me see, no lining or trimming--say fourteen shillings. White point-lace bonnet, thirteen guineas. Sleeves and collar--what did I say for that, Miss Wells?" "Fifteen guineas, madame: and the handkerchief nine." "Sleeves, collar, and handkerchief of Venice point, twenty-four guineas," read Mrs. Cooper. "She must be rich, this Mrs. Dalrymple." "Comme ça, for that," quoth madame. "She has had for more than a thousand pounds in the last six weeks. I suppose you are sure of her, madame? She is a new customer this season." "I wish I was as sure of getting to Paris next year," responded madame. "Her husband has not long ago come into the Dalreemp estate. And the English estates are fine, you know. These young brides will dress and have their fling, and they must pay for it. They come to me: I do not go to them. The Dalreemps are friends of the Cliv-lands, and of those rich people in Grosvenor Square, the Grubbs, which is quite sufficient passe-port. You can go on now to Madame Cliv-land, Mrs. Cooper: one black mantle, silk and lace, three pounds ten shillings, and one fancy straw bonnet, blue trimmings, three guineas." "Is that all there is for Mrs. Cleveland?" Madame shrugged her shoulders. "That's all. I would not give thank you for the custom of Madame Cliv-land in itself; but they are well connected, and she is a gentle, good woman. I thought she looked ill today." "There was Mrs. Dalrymple's wreath," interrupted Miss Atkinson, referring to a pencil list in her hand. "Tiens, I forgot," answered madame. "What were those wreaths invoiced to us at, Miss Wells? This is the first of them sold." "Twenty-nine and sixpence each, madame." "Peach-and-white crystallized wreath, Mrs. Cooper, if you please. Forty-nine shillings." "Forty-nine shillings," concluded Mrs. Cooper, making the entry. "That is all, then, for Mrs. Dalrymple." And a pretty good "all," for one day, it was, considering Mr. Dalrymple's income. CHAPTER XII. A LECTURE.