little wolf, let us have a divorce. By that means we at least shall complete the series, and cast no reflection on our guests."
They perceived also that there would not be enough silverware, glassware, and plates. They must rent some, and also rent some chairs, for they had only fifteen, and even these were not perfect. Finally, the menu was ordered of one of the grand caterers of the Boulevard.
"Let everything be ultra-stylish," ordered Mme. Charrigaud, "and let no one be able to recognize the dishes that are served. Shrimp hash, goose-liver cutlets, game that looks like ham, ham that looks like cake, truffles in whipped cream, and mashed potatoes in branches,—cherries in squares and peaches twisted into spirals. In short, have everything as stylish as possible."
"Rest easy," declared the caterer. "I know so well how to disguise things that I defy anybody to know what he is eating. It is a specialty of the house."
At last the great day arrived.
Monsieur rose early,—anxious, nervous, agitated. Madame, who had been unable to sleep all night, and weary from the errands of the day before and the preparations of all sorts, could not keep still. Five or six times, with wrinkled brow, out of breath, trembling and so weary that, as she said, she felt her belly in her heels, she made a final