"I beg pardon, monsieur," said I, as I followed him to his private sitting-room, "for having returned so late—it was not my fault."
"That is just what I want to know," rejoined M. Pelet, as he ushered me into the comfortable parlour with a good wood-fire—for the stove had now been removed for the season. Having rung the bell he ordered "Coffee for two," and presently he and I were seated, almost in English comfort, one on each side of the hearth, a little round table between us with a coffee-pot, a sugar-basin, and two large white china cups. While M. Pelet employed himself in choosing a cigar from a box, my thoughts reverted to the two outcast ushers, whose voices I could hear even now crying hoarsely for order in the playground.
"C'est une grande responsabilité, que la surveillance," observed I.
"Plait-il?" dit M. Pelet.
I remarked that I thought Messieurs Vandam
