The furniture was all in order.
Madame went to the window and threw it open.

A river steamer, moving cautiously in the dawning light, cast its booming note over the housetops towards us.

The frog in the fountain--a family friend--was croaking comfortably in the courtyard below us.
"Lucille, my child," said Madame, quietly, "go back to bed.

Your father is not in the house.

It will explain itself to-morrow." But the face that Madame turned towards me, when her daughter had reluctantly left us, was not one that looked for a pleasant solution to the mystery.