“Very well, Tite; go and do the banquette,” returned Pepsie, smiling indulgently. “But mind what I say about the kitchen, when mama comes.”
Such an event as some one moving in Good Children Street was very uncommon. Pepsie thought every one had lived there since the flood, and she didn’t blame Tite Souris to want to be out with the other idle loungers to see what was going on, although she understood the banquette ruse perfectly.
At last all the furniture was carried in, and with it two trunks, so large for that quarter as to cause no little comment.
“Par exemple!” said Monsieur Fernandez, “what a size for a trunk! That madame yonder must have traveled much in the North. I’ve heard they use them there for ladies’ toilets.”
And, straightway, madame acquired greater importance from the conclusion that she had traveled extensively.
Then the wagon went away, the door was discreetly “bowed,” and the loungers dispersed; but Pepsie, from her coign of vantage, still watched every movement of the new-comers. She saw Raste come out with a basket, and she was sure that he had gone to market. She saw madame putting up a pretty lace curtain at one window, and she was curious to know if she intended to have a parlor. Only one blind was thrown open; the other was “bowed” all day, yet she was positive that some one was working behind it. “That must be madame’s room,” she thought; “that big boy will have the back room next to the kitchen, and the little girl will sleep with madame, so the room on this side, with the pretty curtain, will be the parlor. I wonder if she will have a carpet, and a console, with vases of wax-flowers on it, and a cabinet full of shells, and a sofa.” This was Pepsie’s idea of a parlor; she had seen a parlor once long ago, and it was like this.
So she wondered and speculated all day; and all day the pale, sorrowful child sat alone on the side-gallery, holding her bird in her arms; and when night came, Pepsie had not sugared her pecans, neither had she read her prayers, nor even played one game of solitaire; but Madelon did not complain of her idleness. It was seldom the child had such a treat, and even Tite Souris escaped a scolding, in consideration of the great event.
The next morning Pepsie was awake very early, and so anxious was she to get to the window that she could hardly wait to be dressed. When she first looked across the street, the doors and shutters were closed, but some one had been stirring; and Tite Souris informed her, when she brought her coffee, that madame had been out at “sun up,” and had cleaned and “bricked” the banquette her own self.
“Then I’m afraid she isn’t rich,” said Pepsie, “because if she was rich, she’d keep a servant, and perhaps after all she won’t have a parlor.”
Presently there was a little flutter behind the bowed blind, and lo! it was suddenly flung open, and there, right in the middle of the window, hung a very tasty gilt frame, surrounding a white center, on which was printed, in red and gilt letters, “Blanchisseuse de fin, et confections de toute sorte,” and underneath, written in Raste’s boldest hand and best English, “Fin Washun dun hear, an notuns of al sort,” and behind the sign Pepsie could plainly see a flutter of laces and muslins, children’s dainty little frocks and aprons, ladies’ collars, cuffs, and neckties, handkerchiefs and sacks, and various other articles for feminine use and adornment; and on a table, close to the window, were boxes of spools, bunches of tape, cards of buttons, skeins of wool, rolls of ribbons; in short, an assortment of small wares, which presented quite an attractive appearance; and, hovering about them, madame could be discerned, in her black skirt and fresh white sack, while, as smiling and self-satisfied as ever, she arranged her stock to the best advantage, and waited complacently for the customers who she was sure would come.