"I am a poor Frenchwoman, out for a little recreation. My funds are of the most _petits_, and I am satisfied with the very least that can content any mortal. May I see the _appartement_ so minute, and judge for myself if it will suffice?" Mrs Dawson eyed the visitor with scant favour. She disliked foreigners with all an Englishwoman's prejudice, and wondered how Miss Price, and in particular Mrs Simpkins--who had the best rooms in the house, owing to the needs of her large family--would like to associate with the "Frenchy." She was, therefore, distinctly cold. "I told my servant to tell you, Mademoiselle,"--Mrs Dawson's lips quivered over the name; she had not pronounced it for many a long day--"that my house was full." "But not replete," said Mademoiselle with avidity. "She did let out, that faithful one, that there was one _appartement triste_ in your beautiful villa. I feel that I should be at home here. It is wonderful when we feel that drawing of the heart towards certain of our fellow-creatures. I should love to be a member of your little family. I should make myself _tres-agreable_: I should converse in the broken English which makes your folk laugh. We of the French tongue never laugh at your mistakes when you try to copy us. But I mind not that. I like you to laugh. May I see the chamber and decide for myself?" "Well, if you are satisfied," said Mrs Dawson, "I of course want to make as much money as I can. The room is at the very top of the house, and I have stowed away one or two boxes just under the roof. I hardly ever let it because it faces due west and the slates get so hot people complain that they can't sleep in it of nights. It's next door, also, to a large attic where three young ladies and their governess sleep. You mayn't even find quiet in the little room." "I mind not," said Mademoiselle, "I am accustomed to the vagaries of the youthful. I am indeed a teacher from that most distinguished school, Hazlitt Chase. My dear pupil, Penelope Carlton, and I, came to Marshlands two nights ago, she to visit my dear and most beloved pupil, Miss Honora Beverley, and I to search for a meagre _appartement_ in the cheapest part of your gay and sparkling town. I find not what I want. I roam abroad to-day to seek for fresh quarters. I see your house so cool, so chaste, so--if I may use the word--refined. I say to myself-- here is a home, here is a rest: I mind not the hot attic, for by day, at least, I shall be happy."