Simone shrugged her thin shoulders just perceptibly. "Mademoiselle sent me out on an errand, Miladi. I have not long returned, with the perfume she wanted. It was for the _coiffeur_ who is here to wash the hair of Mademoiselle. She would not have the stuff he brought, so the man was obliged to wait. I am afraid the drying, even with the hot-air machine, will take some time. Miladi knows what a quantity of the hairs there are on the pretty head of Mademoiselle, and how she is exacting of the way everything is done!" The red-haired lady guessed from the Frenchwoman's tone that Simone considered the introduction of a _coiffeur_ a slight to her own skill. "Why, yes," she agreed. "Mademoiselle is exacting. But what would you? She is a spoiled child. The least crumple in a rose-leaf--by the way, Simone" (she stopped for a little throaty chuckle), "is it true about the _carpet_ in this suite?" "The carpet, Miladi?" Simone flushed faintly through her dark skin, and "Miladi" made a second guess. Of course Juliet trusted Simone, and depended upon her blindly; but she--Emmy West--had often wondered how certain spicy little items concerning the Phayre family reached the gossip columns of "society papers." "I read such an amusing paragraph in _Modern Ways_ this morning," she explained. "It was _apropos_ of the wedding, of course. _Modern Ways_ loves a chance for a 'dig' at us Americans who marry well-known Englishmen! It said that when Miss Juliet Phayre and her Uncle Henry came over from Paris the other day, and took this royal suite which Mr. Phayre had engaged, Miss Phayre sent for the manager before she'd been in the hotel half an hour. 'There's a spot of ink on the carpet,' she complained (according to the paper). 'I must have another carpet at once.' Now do tell me, Simone (I'm very discreet!) did that really happen?" "It did, Madame," the maid admitted. "Though how it got to these sacred journalists----" "And did the manager say to Mademoiselle, 'We have had half the kings of Europe in this suite since that spot appeared, Miss Phayre, and not one of them mentioned it!'" "His words were to that effect, Miladi, so far as I remember. But----" "Oh, then you _were_ in the room? What fun! You can tell me if Juliet--if Mademoiselle replied that a spotted carpet might be good enough for a king; it wasn't good enough for a Phayre." Simone flung out her hands, palm upward. They were beautifully manicured hands, as carefully tended as her mistress's. And as she smiled her teeth showed very white. When her face was grave, she looked somewhat sullen, and might be thirty-five; but the smile was rejuvenating. It put her back to twenty-eight, and made her almost handsome as well as _chic_. "Miladi has known Mademoiselle since her schooldays, is it not?" she hedged. "Miladi will be able to judge as well as if I told her whether Mademoiselle would have made that answer."