Rachel took her up-stairs to the little back-room, and left her there, whilst she looked in the room which she shared with her mother, for the dress she wished to give Mimi; she soon came back with it, tied in a parcel, and now devoutly wished that she could see Madame Rose safe out of the place. But Madame Rose was in no mood to go. She had recognized the room and window where she so often saw Rachel; and she intimated as much, by a lively pantomime; first taking up a book, she held it before her, pretending to read; then she pointed to her forehead, to imply that Rachel was a thinker; and finally, to the horror and dismay of Rachel, Madame Rose shut her eyes, opened her mouth, and warbled a sufficiently correct imitation of the old hundredth. The window was open; and even Mrs. Brown's voice could not drown these strange tones. They reached the ear of Mrs. Gray; and before Rachel had fairly recovered from the surprise and alarm into which the musical outburst of Madame Rose had thrown her, her step-mother appeared at the door of the little back room, and, in stern and indignant accents, asked to know the meaning of what she heard and saw. But, before Rachel could reply, the French costume of Madame Rose had betrayed her. Mrs. Gray was of Scotch descent, and she had some of the old puritan spirit, to which, in the course of a long life, she had added a plenteous store of stubborn English prejudices. Madame Rose was "an idolatrous furriner!" "a French beggar!" too; and that she should have darkened her doors!--that she should be familiarly sitting under her roof--chattering and singing in a back room, with her daughter, was an intolerable insult, a wrong not to be borne. "I am amazed at you, Rachel!" she said, her voice quivering with indignation. "I am amazed at you. How dare you do sich a thing!" The tones and the attitude of Mrs. Gray were not to be misunderstood; nor was little Madame Rose so dull as to mistake them. She saw that her presence was not welcome, and, with great dignity, rose and took her leave. Crimson with pain and shame, Rachel followed her out. She gave Madame Rose an humble and imploring glance, as they parted at the door, as much, as to say, "You know I could not help it." But the appeal was not needed. To her surprise, Madame Rose remained very good-humoured. She even laughed and shrugged her shoulders, French fashion, and indulged in a variety of pantomimic signs, closing with one more intelligible than the rest: a significant tap of her forefinger on her brown forehead, and by which Madame Rose plainly intimated it to be her firm conviction that the intellect of Mrs. Gray was unfortunately deranged. Thus they parted.