When they entered her own little parlor, the parrot called out, "_Joli
petit diable_!" and after waiting for the old familiar response, "_Bon
jour, jolie Manon_!" she began to call herself "_Jolie Manon_!" and to
sing, "_Ha! ha! petit blanc, mon bon frère_!" The poor girls had no
heart for play; and Madame considerately silenced the noisy bird by
hanging a cloth over the cage.

"My dear children," said she, "I would gladly avoid telling you
anything calculated to make you more unhappy. But you _must_ know the
state of things sooner or later, and it is better that a friend should
tell you. Your father owed money to those men, and they are seeing
what they can find to sell in order to get their pay."

"Will they sell the table and boxes Mamita painted, and the ottomans
she embroidered?" inquired Rosa, anxiously.

"Will they sell the piano that papa gave to Rosa for a birthday
present?" asked Flora.

"I am afraid they will," rejoined Madame.

The girls covered their faces and groaned.

"Don't be so distressed, my poor children," said their sympathizing
friend. "I have been trying to save a little something for you. See
here!" And she brought forth some of the hidden portfolios and boxes,
saying, "These will be of great use to you, my darlings, in helping
you to earn your living, and they would bring almost nothing at
auction."