“Donnez moi mes pantoufles,” said her mistress with a yawn.  She was very tired and was glad to change her tight opera slippers for more comfortable footwear.

“Oui, Madame!”

Josephine knelt down, took off the dainty slippers, and, going to a closet, brought a pair of easy bedroom slippers and put them on.

“Has Mr. Stafford returned?” inquired Virginia.

“No, Madame.”

“Nor ’phoned?”

“No, Madame.  Did not Monsieur go to opera with Madame and Madame Gillie?”

“Yes,” said her mistress hastily, “but he couldn’t stay.  He had some business to attend to.  You are quite sure he hasn’t ’phoned?”

The girl shook her head.

“No message, Madame.  I find out.”  Picking up the receiver from a telephone on the bureau, she spoke downstairs:  “Hello!  Who is this?  Madame want to know if any word has come from Monsieur since he went away!  You are quite sure?  Merci!” Replacing the receiver, she shook her head and said:  “No, Madame.”

Virginia looked away.  Her hands were tightly clenched and a hard, set expression came into her face.  Rising, she said: 

“Very well.  I’ll get into something loose.”

“Oui, Madame!”

The girl took off her mistress’s jewels and put them away in a drawer of the dressing table.  This done, she began to unhook her dress.

Virginia shivered.  She did not feel well; her face was flushed and her head ached.  She thought that, possibly, she had taken cold.  In a tone of mild reproach she said: 

“The bath was a little cold this morning, Josephine.”

The maid looked distressed.  Such a calamity was unheard of—­hardly to be believed.  Apologetically she exclaimed: 

“Je suis vraiment desolee, Madame.  It not happen again—­I see to that.”

Virginia smiled languidly: 

“I’m not complaining, Josephine—­”

“No, Madame is very good and kind.”

“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be.”

“Merci, Madame,” said the girl with a courtesy.

At that moment there was a knock at the door and Fanny entered.  She, also, was in evening dress, but less elegantly attired than her sister.  Dropping into a chair, while Virginia went on changing her gown, she exclaimed: 

“Baby’s all right, thank God!  She’s sleeping just as sound as can be.”

“Isn’t that nice?” smiled Virginia.

“Yes,” went on her sister proudly, “she’s a perfect darling.”

“She’s certainly a dear,” murmured Virginia, turning to view herself in the long mirror.

“Did you ever know a child who behaved better?” demanded the proud mother.

“Never.  She hasn’t been the slightest trouble since you’ve been here—­has she?”

“No!” smiled Fanny.  “And she’s always that way.  It’s such a comfort to a mother to know her child has a sweet disposition.  I wonder whether she gets it—­from me or from Jimmie.”