MR. BENDIT'S office which Perrine occupied was a tiny place whose sole furniture consisted of a table and two chairs, a bookcase in blackwood, and a map of the world.

Yet with its polished pine floor, and a window with its red and white shade, it appeared very bright to Perrine. Not only was the office assigned to her cheerful, but she found that by leaving the door open she could see and occasionally hear what was going on in the other offices.

Monsieur Vulfran's nephews, Theodore and Casimir, had their rooms on the right and on the left of his; after theirs came the counting house, then lastly, there was Fabry, the engineer's, office. This one was opposite hers. Fabry's office was a large room where several draughtsmen were standing up before their drawings, arranged on high inclined desks.

Having nothing to do and not liking to take M. Bendit's chair, Perrine took a seat by the door. She opened one of the dictionaries which were the only kind of books the office contained. She would have preferred anything else but she had to be contented with what was there.

The hours passed slowly, but at last the bell rang for luncheon. Perrine was one of the first to go out. On the way she was joined by Fabry and Mombleux. They also were going to Mother FranÇoise's house.

"So then you are a comrade of ours, Mademoiselle," said Mombleux, who had not forgotten his humiliation at Saint-Pipoy, and he wanted to make the one who was the cause of it pay for it.

She felt the sarcasm of his words and for a moment she was disconcerted, but she recovered herself quickly.

"No, Monsieur," she said quietly, "not of yours but of William's."

The tone of her reply evidently pleased the engineer, for turning to Perrine he gave her an encouraging smile.

"But if you are replacing Mr. Bendit?" said Mombleux obstinately.

"Say that Mademoiselle is keeping his job for him," retorted Fabry.

"It's the same thing," answered Mombleux.

"Not at all, for in a week or two, when he'll be better, he'll come back in his old place. He certainly would not have had it if Mademoiselle had not been here to keep it for him."

"It seems to me that you and I also have helped to keep it for him," said Mombleux.

"Yes, but this little girl has done her share; he'll have to be grateful to all three of us," said Fabry, smiling again at Perrine.

If she had misunderstood the sense of Mombleux's words, the way in which she was treated at Mother FranÇoise's would have enlightened her. Her place was not set at the boarders' table as it would have been if she had been considered their equal, but at a little table at the side. And she was served after everyone else had taken from the dishes what they required.

But that did not hurt her; what did it matter to her if she were served first or last, and if the best pieces had already been taken. What interested her was that she was placed near enough to them to hear their conversation. She hoped that what she heard might guide her as to how she should act in the midst of the difficulties which confronted her.

These men knew the habits of M. Vulfran, his nephews, and Talouel, of whom she stood so much in fear; a word from them would enlighten her and she might be shown a danger which she did not even suspect, and if she was aware of it she could avoid it. She would not spy upon them. She would not listen at doors. When they were speaking they knew that they were not alone. So she need have no scruples but could profit by their remarks.

Unfortunately on that particular morning they said nothing that interested her; their talk was on insignificant matters. As soon as she had finished her meal she hurried to Rosalie, for she wanted to know how M. Vulfran had discovered that she had only slept one night at her grandmother's house.

"It was that Skinny who came here while you were at Picquigny," said Rosalie, "and he got Aunt Zenobie to talk about you; and you bet it isn't hard to make Aunt Zenobie talk especially when she gets something for doing so. She told him that you had spent only one night here and all sorts of other things besides."

"What other things?"

"I don't know because I was not there, but you can imagine the worst, but fortunately it has not turned out badly for you."

"No, on the contrary it has turned out very well, because M. Vulfran was amused and interested when I told him my story."

"I'll tell Aunt Zenobie, that'll make her mad."

"Oh, don't put her against me."

"Put her against you; oh, there's no danger of that now. She knows the position that M. Vulfran has given you, you won't have a better friend ... seemingly. You'll see tomorrow. Only if you don't want that Skinny to know your business, don't tell anything to her."

"That I won't."

"Oh, she's sly enough."

"Yes, but now you've warned me...."

At three o'clock as arranged, M. Vulfran rang for Perrine and they drove off in the phaeton to make the customary round of the factories, for he did not let a single day pass without visiting the different buildings.

Although he could not see he could at least be seen, and when he gave his orders it was difficult to believe that he was blind; he seemed to know everything that was going on.

That day they began at the village of Flexelles. They stayed some time in the building and when they came out William was not to be seen. The horse was tied to a tree and William, the coachman, had disappeared. As soon as his employer had gone into his factories, William of course, as usual, had hurried to the nearest wine shop ... meeting a boon companion there he had forgotten the hour.

M. Vulfran sent one of his men off to search for his recalcitrant coachman. After waiting several minutes, the blind man became very angry. Finally William, with head held high, came staggering along.

"I can tell by the sound of his footsteps that he is drunk, Benoist," said M. Vulfran, addressing his manager, who stood beside him. "I am right, am I not?"

"Yes, sir ... nothing can be hidden from you. He is drunk...."

William began to apologize.

"I've just come from...." he began, but his employer cut him short.

"That is enough," said M. Vulfran, sternly. "I can tell by your breath and the way you walk that you are drunk."

"I was just going to say, sir," began William again, as he untied the horse, but at that moment he dropped the whip and stooping down, he tried three times to grasp it. The manager looked grave.

"I think it would be better if I drove you to Maraucourt," he said. "I am afraid you would not be safe with William."

"Why so?" demanded William insolently.

"Silence," commanded M. Vulfran, in a tone that admitted of no reply. "From this moment you can consider yourself dismissed from my service."

"But, sir, I was going to say...."

With an uplifted motion of his hand M. Vulfran stopped him and turned to his manager.

"Thank you, Benoist," he said, "but I think this little girl can drive me home. Coco is as quiet as a lamb, and she can well replace this drunken creature."

He was assisted into the carriage, and Perrine took her place beside him. She was very grave, for she felt the responsibility of her position.

"Not too quickly," said M. Vulfran, when she touched Coco with the end of her whip.

"Oh, please, sir, I don't want to go quickly, I assure you," she said, nervously.

"That's a good thing; let her just trot."

There was a great surprise in the streets of Maraucourt when the villagers saw the head of the firm seated beside a little girl wearing a hat of black straw and a black dress, who was gravely driving old Coco at a straight trot instead of the zigzag course that William forced the old animal to take in spite of herself. What was happening? Where was this little girl going? They questioned one another as they stood at the doors, for few people in the village knew of her and of the position that M. Vulfran had given her.

When they arrived at Mother FranÇoise's house, Aunt Zenobie was leaning over the gate talking to two women. When she caught sight of Perrine she stared in amazement, but her look of astonishment was quickly followed by her best smile, the smile of a real friend.

"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran! Good day, Mademoiselle Aurelie!" she called out.

As soon as the carriage had passed she told her neighbors how she had procured the fine position for the young girl who had been their boarder. She had recommended her so highly to Skinny.

"She's a nice girl, though," she added, "and she'll not forget what she owes us. She owes it all to us."

If the villagers had been surprised to see Perrine driving M. Vulfran, Talouel was absolutely stunned.

"Where is William?" he cried, hurrying down the steps of the veranda to meet his employer.

"Sent off for continual drunkenness," said M. Vulfran, smiling.

"I had supposed that you would take this step eventually," said Talouel.

"Exactly," replied his employer briefly.

Talouel had established his power in the house by these two words, "I suppose." His aim was to persuade his chief that he was so devoted to his interests that he was able to foresee every wish that he might have. So he usually began with these words, "I suppose that you want...."

He had the subtlety of the peasant, always on the alert, and his quality for spying made him stop at nothing to get the information he desired. M. Vulfran usually made the same reply when Talouel had "supposed" something.

"Exactly," the blind man would say.

"And I suppose you find," continued Talouel, as he helped his employer to get down, "that the one who has replaced him deserves your trust?"

"Exactly," said the blind man again.

"I'm not astonished," added the crafty Talouel. "The day when Rosalie brought her here I thought there was something in her, and I was sure you would soon find that out."

As he spoke he looked at Perrine, and his look plainly said: "You see what I've done for you. Don't forget it, and be ready to do me a service."

A demand of payment on this order was not long in coming.

A little later, stopping before the door of the office in which Perrine sat, he said in a low voice from the doorway:

"Tell me what happened with William."

Perrine thought that if she frankly replied to his question she would not be revealing any serious matter, so she related exactly what had occurred.

"Ah, good," he said, more at ease. "Now, if he should come to me and ask to be taken back I'll settle with him."

Later on Fabry and Mombleux put the same question to her, for everyone now knew that little Perrine had had to drive the chief home because his coachman had been too drunk to hold the reins.

"It's a miracle that he hasn't upset the boss a dozen times," said Fabry, "for he drives like a crazy creature when he's drunk. He should have been sent off long ago."

"Yes, and he would have been," said Mombleux, smiling, "if certain ones who wanted his help had not done all they could to keep him."

Perrine became all attention.

"They'll make a face when they see that he's gone, but I'll give William his due: he didn't know that he was spying."

They were silent while Zenobie came in to change the plates. They had not thought that the pretty little girl in the corner was listening to their conversation. After Zenobie had left the room they went on with their talk.

"But what if the son returns?" asked Mombleux.

"Well, most of us want him back, for the old man's getting old," said Fabry; "but perhaps he's dead."

"That might be," agreed Mombleux. "Talouel's so ambitious he'd stop at nothing. He wants to own the place, and he'll get it if he can."

"Yes, and who knows? Maybe he had a hand in keeping M. Edmond away. Neither of us were here at the time, but you might be sure that Talouel would work out things to his own interests."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Yes, and at that time he didn't know that there'd be others to take the place of M. Edmond. I'm not sure what he's scheming to get, but it's something big."

"Yes, and he's doing some dirty work for sure, and only think, when he was twenty years old he couldn't write his own name."

Rosalie came into the room at this moment and asked Perrine if she would like to go on an errand with her. Perrine could not refuse. She had finished her dinner some time ago, and if she remained in her corner she would soon awaken their suspicions.

It was a quiet evening. The people sat at their street doors chatting. After Rosalie had finished her errand she wanted to go from one door to another to gossip, but Perrine had no desire for this, and she excused herself on the plea of being tired. She did not want to go to bed. She just wanted to be alone, to think, in her little room, with the door closed. She wanted to take a clear account of the situation in which she now found herself.

When she heard Fabry and Mombleux speaking of the manager she realized how much she had to fear this man. He had given her to understand that he was the master, and as such it was his right to be informed of all that happened. But all that was nothing compared with what had been revealed to her in the conversation that she had just heard.

She knew that he wished to exercise his authority over everyone. But she had not known that his ambition was to take her grandfather's place some day. This man was scheming to replace the all-powerful master of the Maraucourt factories; for years he had plotted with this object in view. All this she had just learned. The two men whose conversation she had overheard were in a position to know the facts. And this terrible man, now that she had replaced William, intended that she should spy upon his employer.

What should she do? She was only a little girl, almost a child, and there was no one to protect her. What should she do?

She had asked herself this question before, but under different circumstances. It was impossible for her to lie down, so nervous and excited was she at what she had heard.

Perhaps this dreadful man had schemed to keep her dear dead father away from his home, and he was still working in an underhanded way for what? Was he trying to get out of the way the two nephews who would replace his master? If he had the power to do this, what might he not do to her if she refused to spy for him?

She spent the greater part of the night turning these questions over in her little head. At last, tired out with the difficulties which confronted her, she dropped her curly head on the pillow and slept.