But before the stout woman, with her servant and the two children, had left the office, the Belleville omnibus had started off; there was but one vacant seat, and twenty people were waiting for it. You should have seen the disappointment depicted on all those faces then. Several persons, tired of waiting, decided to walk. Others remained in the square; but the majority returned to the office, where all the benches were already filled. These public carriages are surely an excellent invention; but let us admit that they are not equal to the most modest of char-a-bancs, which is entirely at your service, even when you only hire it. Finding no place to sit inside the office, the dame with the little boys seated herself and them on a bench outside. As for the servant, she succeeded in finding room inside; the fish in her basket was of much assistance to her in inducing others to make room; there was a general rush to get as far away from her as possible. The party with the cake returned, and ran up to the clerk. "Well! isn't it about time for us to start?" "Where are you going, monsieur?" "You know perfectly well--to La Villette." "The 'bus started three minutes ago." "What! it didn't wait for me! I asked you if I had time to go to buy a cake, and you said _yes_. You ought to have said _no_, if I hadn't." "You shouldn't have been so long about it, monsieur." "I thought there was a pastry-cook on Carre Saint-Martin, but I couldn't find anything but pork-shops." "You can take the next 'bus." "How soon does it start?" "In seven minutes." "Then I've got time to go to drink a glass of beer to wash down my cake. Cafes aren't like pastry-cooks--you can find them anywhere." "Be careful, monsieur; seven minutes at the outside." "You can keep it waiting a minute if I'm not here." "They never wait, monsieur." Two rather attractive young women entered the office; they were modestly dressed, and their hats were so small, and set so far back on their heads, that they looked to be nothing more than caps. Their general appearance was that of grisettes. Some writers who study present-day manners in their studies, or at table in a cafe, claim that there are no grisettes now; but I assure you that that is not true; if you do not find any, it is because you have not made a thorough search. There will always be grisettes in Paris, where the more or less flighty young work-girl of the Latin quarter does not pass at one bound from her modest chamber to the boudoir of a kept mistress.