As the panting mother re-entered her room, "See, Maman," said 'Tite
Poulette, peeping at the window, "the young gentleman from over the way
has crossed!"
"Holy Mary bless him!" said the mother.
"I will go over," thought Kristian Koppig, "and ask him kindly if he is
not making a mistake."
"What are they doing, dear?" asked the mother, with clasped hands.
"They are talking; the young man is tranquil, but 'Sieur de la Rue is
very angry," whispered the daughter; and just then--pang! came a sharp,
keen sound rattling up the walls on either side of the narrow way, and
"Aha!" and laughter and clapping of female hands from two or three
windows.
"Oh! what a slap!" cried the girl, half in fright, half in glee, jerking
herself back from the casement simultaneously with the report. But the
"ahas" and laughter, and clapping of feminine hands, which still
continued, came from another cause. 'Tite Poulette's rapid action had
struck the slender cord that held up an end of her hanging garden, and
the whole rank of cigar-boxes slid from their place, turned gracefully
over as they shot through the air, and emptied themselves plump upon the
head of the slapped manager.
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