as still in the old French Quarter, it was not uncommon for persons, even of wealth, to make their homes over stores, and buildings were constructed with a view to their partition in this way.  Hence, in Chartres and Decatur streets, to-day—­and in the cross-streets between—­so many store-buildings with balconies, dormer windows, and sometimes even belvideres.  This new building caught the eye and fancy of Aurora and Clotilde.  The apartments for the store were entirely isolated.  Through a large porte-cochere, opening upon the banquette immediately beside and abreast of the store-front, one entered a high, covered carriage-way with a tessellated pavement and green plastered walls, and reached,—­just where this way (corridor, the Creoles always called it) opened into a sunny court surrounded with narrow parterres,—­a broad stairway leading to a hall over the “corridor” and to the drawing-rooms over the store.  They liked it!  Aurora would find out at once what sort of an establishment was likely to be opened below, and if that proved unexceptionable she would lease the upper part without more ado.

Next day she said: 

“Clotilde, thou beautiful, I have signed the lease!”

“Then the store below is to be occupied by a—­what?”

“Guess!”

“Ah!”

“Guess a pharmacien!”

Clotilde’s lips parted, she was going to smile, when her thought changed and she blushed offendedly.

“Not—­”

“’Sieur Frowenf—­ah, ha, ha, ha!—­ha, ha, ha!”

Clotilde burst into tears.

Still they moved in—­it was written in the bond; and so did the apothecary; and probably two sensible young lovers never before nor since behaved with such abject fear of each other—­for a time.  Later, and after much oft-repeated good advice given to each separately and to both together, Honore Grandissime persuaded them that Clotilde could make excellent use of a portion of her means by reenforcing Frowenfeld’s very slender stock and well filling his rather empty-looking store, and so they signed regular articles of copartnership, blushing frightfully.

Frowenfeld became a visitor, Honore not; once Honore had seen the ladies’ moneys satisfactorily invested, he kept aloof.  It is pleasant here to remark that neither Aurora nor Clotilde made any waste of their sudden acquisitions; they furnished their rooms with much beauty at moderate cost, and their salon with artistic, not extravagant, elegance, and, for the sake of greater propriety, employed a decayed lady as housekeeper; but, being discreet in all other directions, they agreed upon one bold outlay—­a volante.

Almost any afternoon you might have seen this vehicle on the Terre aux Boeuf, or Bayou, or Tchoupitoulas Road; and because of the brilliant beauty of its occupants it became known from all other volantes as the “meteor.”