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No. Grandmamma knows what is going on. Mademoiselle Élise, too, must have a suspicion. That leaves only the children. Mademoiselle Henriette and her sister are requested to retire, which they do at once, the former with a majestic, annoyed air, like a worthy descendant of the Saint-Amands, the other, the little monkey Yaia, with a wild desire to laugh, dissembled with difficulty.

She is the eldest. Then we have Elise, who is preparing for the examination which she must pass when she is eighteen. Henriette, who is fourteen, and Zara or Yaia who is only twelve." That pet name of Yaia intensely amused M. le Baron, who inquired next what were the resources of this interesting family. "My salary, M. le Baron; nothing else.

Every morning of the year, at exactly eight o'clock, a new and almost tenantless house in a remote quarter of Paris, echoed to cries, calls, merry laughter, ringing clear in the desert of the staircase: "Father, don't forget my music." "Father, my crochet wool." "Father, bring us some rolls." And the voice of the father calling from below: "Yaia, bring me down my portfolio, please."

It is only the children." Mlle. Henriette and her sister are asked to retire, which they immediately do, the one with a dignified and annoyed air, like a true daughter of the Saint-Amands, the other, the young Chinese Yaia, hardly hiding a wild desire to laugh. Thereupon a great silence; after which, the lover begins his little story. I quite believe that Mlle.

Then we have Élise who is eighteen and preparing for her examination, Henriette who is fourteen, and Zaza or Yaia who is only twelve." The pet name Yaia amused Monsieur le Baron immensely; he also inquired as to the resources of the family. "My salary, Monsieur le Baron, nothing but that. I had a little money laid by, but my poor wife's sickness and the girls' education "

Every morning in the year, at precisely eight o'clock, a new and almost uninhabited house in an out-of-the-way quarter of Paris was filled with shouts and cries and happy laughter that rang clear as crystal in the desert of the hall. "Father, don't forget my music." "Father, my embroidery cotton." "Father, bring us some rolls." And the father's voice calling from below: "Yaia, throw down my bag."

Suddenly a cheery, vigorous knock made everybody jump. "Ah! there's Monsieur André. Quick, Élise, a cup. Yaia, the little cakes." Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Henriette, the third of the Joyeuse girls, who had inherited from her mother, born Saint-Amand, a certain worldly side, in view of the crowded condition of the salons that evening, rushed to light the two candles on the piano.