they had never, never, under any circumstances, allowed a client to sleep
in before.

Then Madame Poulain had gone out and called Monsieur Poulain; and the
worthy man had confirmed, in every particular, what his wife had just
said--that is, he had explained how they had been knocked up late last
night by a loud ringing at the porte cochere; how they had gone out to the
door, and there, seized with pity for this pretty young English lady, who
apparently knew so very, very little French, they had allowed her to occupy
their daughter's room....

Finally, the good Poulains, separately and in unison, had begged the
Senator to try and find out something about their curious guest, as she
apparently knew too little French to make herself intelligible.

Now that he heard Nancy's quiet assertion, the Senator felt sure there had
been a mistake. The Poulains had evidently confused pretty Mrs. Dampier
with some wandering British spinster.

"Let me go down with you now," she said eagerly. "The truth is--I know
you'll think me foolish--but I'm afraid of the Poulains! They've behaved so
oddly and so rudely to me this morning. I liked them very much last night."

"Yes," he said cordially. "We'll go right down now; and my girl, Daisy, can
come too."

When his daughter came into the room, "There's been some mistake," said
Senator Burton briefly. "It's my fault, I expect. I can't have made it
clear to Madame Poulain whom I meant. She has confused Mrs. Dampier with
some English lady who turned up here alone late last night."