Susan looked on and listened, and soon became very much interested in Mademoiselle's preparations. It appeared that as Adolphe was never home till late they were accustomed to have their principal meal together in the evening; to-day, however, in honour of her guest, she was bent on preparing a choice little mid-day repast. First she made some coffee and put the pot on the hearth to keep warm, and then, Susan having helped her to lay the table, she proceeded to make a sweet omelette. This process was most attractive. It was delightful to see how deftly she shook the handle of the little pan, how she coaxed and patted and tossed the eggs into the form of an omelette, and how, just at the very right moment, she hastily removed it into a hot dish, swiftly inserted the jam, and folded it over. It looked like magic to Susan, and for the moment it put everything about Sophia Jane out of her head. She soon thought of her again, however. Mademoiselle, having taken off a large white apron, sat down to do the honour of the table with a slightly increased colour but unsubdued powers of conversation, and her first remark was: "So the poor little companion is ill. That is a great pity. You are quite alone, petite, are you not?" Here was the very moment to correct the mistake, and Susan was just going to speak when Delphine added: "Adolphe has informed me of the excellent progress she has lately made. It is a child of much ability he considers, and very amiable." Alas for Susan! This remark checked the words on her lips, and brought back all her jealous feelings of Sophia Jane. She could not bear to hear her praised. She would put off saying anything about the present just now, she thought. She would still do it of course; but it would be easier out of doors when she and Mademoiselle were walking home together. And it really seemed as though she were to have constant opportunities given to her; for, when they started an hour or so later, Mademoiselle remarked that the doll Grace wore her new bonnet, and asked: "And does your little friend yet possess a doll with a head?" What could be better? The answer in Susan's mind was, "she might have had one, but she bought the collar instead;" but somehow she could not get the words out. A strange voice seemed to reply for her: "She doesn't care about dolls, now she's ill."