"Come," she said, savagely, "propose something." "Would you think well to go and inquire ?" "Ah, listen! Go and what?
No, Mademoiselle, I think not." "Well, send Alphonsina." "What?
And let him know that I am anxious about him?
Let me tell you, my little girl, I shall not drag upon myself the responsibility of increasing the self-conceit of any of that sex." "Well, then, send to buy a picayune's worth of something." "Ah, ha, ha! An emetic, for instance.

Tell him we are poisoned on mushrooms, ha, ha, ha!" Clotilde laughed too.
"Ah, no," she said.

"Send for something he does not sell." Aurora was laughing while Clotilde spoke; but as she caught these words she stopped with open-mouthed astonishment, and, as Clotilde blushed, laughed again.
"Oh, Clotilde, Clotilde, Clotilde!"-- she leaned forward over the table, her face beaming with love and laughter--"you rowdy! you rascal! You are just as bad as your mother, whom you think so wicked! I accept your advice.

Alphonsina!" "Momselle!" The answer came from the kitchen.
"Come go--or, rather,--_vini 'ci courri dans boutique de l'apothecaire_.
Clotilde," she continued, in better French, holding up the coin to view, "look!" "What ?" "The last picayune we have in the world--ha, ha, ha!".