Her skin resembled brown parchment; her eyes were small, black and beady; her nose somewhat fleshy and her lips red and full as those of a young girl.

The age of Madame Cerise might be anywhere between fifty and seventy; assuredly she had long been a stranger to youth, although her dark hair was but slightly streaked with gray.

She wore a somber-hued gown and a maid's jaunty apron and cap.
Louise inspected her closely, longing to find a friend and protector in this curious and strange woman.

Her eyes were moist and pleading--an appeal hard to resist.

But Madame Cerise returned her scrutiny with a wholly impassive expression.
"You are a French maid ?" asked Louise, softly.
"A housekeeper, ma'm'selle.