before she reached her room, and she was so anxious to open her bag to
see what was inside, that she ran up very fast, so fast that she stepped
on her dress and ripped out a long line of gathers. Her eyes were not
nearly as soft as they had been, while she picked up the hanging folds
of pink cloth, and went on.

The narrow corridor at the top of the staircase was somewhat dark, and,
her eyes accustomed to the brilliant light out of doors, the girl
stumbled against a child who was coming towards her.

"_Petit bête!_" she snapped. "You have all but made me fall. Awkward
little thing, why don't you keep out of people's way?"

The child flushed. She would have liked to answer that it was
Mademoiselle who had got in her way; but Mother wished her to be always
polite. "I am sorry," she replied instead, not saying a word about the
poor little toes which the pretty pink lady had crushed.

"Well, then, if you are sorry, why don't you let me pass?" asked the
girl of the soft eyes.

"If you please, I want to give you a note," said the child, anxiously
searching a small pocket. "It's from Mother, for Madame. She told me to
take it to your door; so I did, several times, but nobody answered. Here
'tis, please, Mademoiselle."

Mademoiselle snatched it from the hand, which was very tiny, and pink,
with dimples where grown up folk have knuckles. She then pushed past the
child, and went on to a door at the end of the passage, which she threw
open, without knocking.