Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/29

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at, secretly touched Anna's foot with the toe of her shoe.

Pierre, the nailer, brought his hammer heavily down on the table, so that the shears and tacks strewn about bounced up into the air. Every one in the shop broke into laughter.

"I suppose you know, Pierre," Masson sternly said, "that I still have to nail up the coat Suzette is working on."

"Don't you worry about anything, Monsieur Masson," Suzette interrupted. "I haven't taken my foot off the treadle for a minute."

"I'm not complaining about you," Masson remarked in his usual drawn-out manner; "I'm talking to Pierre. Why are you butting in? Just don't get excited and you'll stay beautiful longer."

Suzette contented herself with a muttered "Merde" and pedalled furiously on the treadle.

But although his strategy with Suzette had failed, Masson refused to give up the campaign. Smoothing the squirrel skins he was holding, he turned his attention to Jeanne.

"Why don't you speak up, Madame?" he purred.

"What is it you want to know, Monsieur?" Jeanne retorted in her deep voice. "Maybe the way I feel on Mondays?"

"Well, why not? It would certainly be interesting to know."

"I can see you've got something on your mind," Jeanne said, lowering an eyelid. "Come on now, out with it Monsieur Masson. Maybe I can help you."

"Touché!" the foreman responded in his lazy tone. Slowly he laid out a paper pattern on the table, chalked carefully around it, and without raising his head, went on talking. "It's just out of curiosity. I merely thought it would be interesting to find out how women feel on Mondays. It's a sort of a hobby of mine-to find out which one has a head