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 impossible," she continued, "when Miss Ophelia is here to tell you all; but you will do everything as I wish. You must ask always my direction, for Mrs. Hartell is very delicate—all American ladies are very delicate, you know—and she wishes not to be troubled." A slatternly girl now appeared with the nurse's breakfast; Adéle inquired why it was not brought by Monsieur Achille, the waiter.

"For a very good reason," replied the girl, chuckling, "Mr. Hartell has turned Monsheer Achille out of doors."

"Achille turned out of doors! For what?" "For loving iced Champagne too well—and drinking as much of it as Mr. Hartell himself."

"Quelle horreur! Je lui ai dit—" Adéle checked before she had betrayed herself. "Pauvre madame," muttered Adéle, "son mari est un bête. Poor madame, her husband is a brute! Anne," she called after the girl, "these cakes are cold—ask Henri to send me some hot ones."

"Henri says if you want any more you may come and bake them yourself."

Adéle now bestowed the most vulgar abuse in French upon Henri, and then begged Lucy to run down and bake her some cakes. "Just half a dozen for me—you can eat the cold ones, my dear—but my stomach won't bear cold cakes."

Lucy civilly but resolutely declined going down, alleging that she was a stranger, and feared to give offence in the kitchen. She immediately found that in avoiding Scylla she had run on Charybdis. Adéle had expected to find in Lucy a meek subject to her authority; and disappointed, as well as displeased, at so early a resistance, she looked