Having no husband or children to occupy her, she fell back on petty details.

She talked for hours about mere nothings, on a dozen napkins marked "Z," placed in the closet before the "O's." "What can Josette be thinking of ?" she exclaimed.

"Josette is beginning to neglect things." Mademoiselle inquired for eight days running whether Penelope had had her oats at two o'clock, because on one occasion Jacquelin was a trifle late.

Her narrow imagination spent itself on trifles.

A layer of dust forgotten by the feather-duster, a slice of toast ill-made by Mariette, Josette's delay in closing the blinds when the sun came round to fade the colors of the furniture,--all these great little things gave rise to serious quarrels in which mademoiselle grew angry.