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."

"Pauvre petite!" exclaimed Mademoiselle in a tone full of sympathy, then
suddenly glancing across the road her face became alight with smiles,
she waved her hand to someone, bowed repeatedly, and said in a low
voice, "It is that brave Madame Jones!" Susan looked in the same
direction; she had always been curious to see Madame Jones since the
story of the beefsteak. There she was, standing at the door of her shop
with her sleeves tucked up; joints of meat and carcasses hung all round.
Her face was broad and red, and she wore a black net cap with pink
roses in it. She might be brave, and noble, and all that Mademoiselle
had said, but Susan thought her not at all nice-looking, and was quite
disappointed. She had not expected her to be like that.

"It is a most excellent woman," murmured Delphine enthusiastically, "and
of a noble heart. It is to her we owe the commencement of our success."

Aunt Hannah's gate was reached wonderfully soon after this, and still
Susan had not told her of the mistake. "It w