draw their lately won custom from them and leave but empty chairs and discontent where now all was prosperity and satisfaction.
Suddenly there came to her the memory of that visit which she had never returned. Mon Dieu! and was not that reason enough? She, the youngest patronne in the quartier, to ignore deliberately the friendly call of a neighbour! At least it was not too late to make amends. So, when business lagged a little in the late afternoon, Madame Sergeot slipped from her desk, and, after a furtive touch to her hair, went in next door, to pour oil upon the troubled waters.
Madame Caille, throned at her counter, received her visitor with unexampled frigidity.
"Ah, it is you," she said. "You have come to make some purchases, no doubt."
"Eggs, madame," answered her visitor, disconcerted, but tactfully accepting the hint.
"The best quality—or—?" demanded Alexandrine, with the suggestion of a sneer.
"The best, evidently, madame. Six, if you please. Spring weather at last, it would seem."
To this generality the other made no reply. Descending from her stool, she blew sharply into a small paper bag, thereby distending it into a miniature balloon, and began selecting the eggs from a basket, holding each one to the light, and then dusting it with exaggerated care before placing it in the bag. While she was thus employed Zut advanced from a secluded corner, and, stretching her fore legs slowly to their utmost length, greeted her acquaintance of the morning with a yawn.
