They went off gaily, and Rosalie accomplished her errand quickly, then their pleasure trip commenced. They walked through the fields, chatting and laughing, picked flowers, then rested in the heat of the day under the shadows of the great trees. It was not until night that they arrived back in Maraucourt. Not until Rosalie reached her grandmother's gate did she realize what time it was. "What will Aunt Zenobie say?" she said half afraid. "Oh well...." began Perrine. "Oh well, I don't care," said Rosalie defiantly, "I've enjoyed myself ... and you?" "Well, if you who have people to talk to every day have enjoyed yourself, how much more have I who never have anybody to talk to," said Perrine ruefully. "I've had a lovely time," she sighed. "Well, then we don't care what anybody says," said Rosalie bravely. Fortunately, Aunt Zenobie was busy waiting on the boarders, so the arrangements for the room was made with Mother Françoise, who did not drive too hard a bargain and that was done quickly and promptly. Fifty francs a month for two meals a day; twelve francs for a little room decorated with a little mirror, a window, and a dressing table. At eight o'clock Perrine dined alone in the general dining room, a table napkin on her lap. At eight-thirty she went to Madame Lachaise's establishment to fetch her dress and other things which were quite ready for her. At nine o'clock, in her tiny room, the door of which she locked, she went to bed, a little worried, a little excited, a little hesitating, but, in her heart of hearts full of hope. Now we should see. What she did see the next morning when she was called into M. Vulfran's office after he had given his orders to his principal employés, was such a severe expression on his face that she was thoroughly disconcerted; although the eyes that turned towards her as she entered his room were devoid of look, she could not mistake the expression on this face that she had studied so much. Certainly it was not the kind look of a benefactor, but quite the reverse: it was an expression of displeasure and anger that she saw. What had she done wrong that he should be angry; with her? She put this question to herself but she could find no reply to it; perhaps she had spent too much at Madame Lachaise's and her employer had judged her character from these purchases. And in her selection she had tried to be so modest and economical. What should she have bought then? or rather what should she not have bought? But she had no more time to wonder, for her employer was speaking to her in a severe tone: "Why did you not tell me the truth?" he said. "In what have I not told the truth?" she asked in a frightened voice. "In regard to your conduct since you came to this village." "But I assure you, Monsieur, I have told you the truth."