we are good friends," said Alice, quickly, "very good friends,
indeed; I was but chaffing."

"Good friends, but enemies; that's how it is with women. Who's the
young man that's caused the coolness? I could guess, maybe!" He laughed
and winked knowingly. "May I be so bold as to name him at a venture?"

"Yes, if you'll be sure to mention Monsieur Rene de Ronville," she
gayly answered. "Who but he could work Adrienne up into a perfect green
mist of jealousy?"

"He would need an accomplice, I should imagine; a young lady of some
beauty and a good deal of heartlessness."

"Like whom, for example?" and she tossed her bright head. "Not me, I am
sure."

"Poh! like every pretty maiden in the whole world, ma petite coquette;
they're all alike as peas, cruel as blue jays and as sweet as
apple-blossoms." He stroked her hair clumsily with his large hand, as a
heavy and roughly fond man is apt to do, adding in an almost serious
tone:

"But my little girl is better than most of them, not a foolish
mischief-maker, I hope."

Alice was putting her head through the string of beads and letting the
translucent white disc fall into her bosom.

"It's time to change the subject," she said; "tell me what you have
seen while away. I wish I could go far off and see things. Have you
been to Detroit, Quebec, Montreal?"

"Yes, I've been to all, a long, hard journey, but reasonably
profitable. You shall have a goodly dot when you get married, my child."

"And did you attend any parties and balls?" she inquired quickly,
ignoring his concluding remark. "Tell me about them. How do the fine
ladies dress, and do they wear their hair high with great big combs? Do
they have long skirts and--"

"Hold up, you double-tongued chatterbox!" he interrupted; "I can't
answer forty questions at once. Yes, I danced till my legs ached with
women old and girls young; but how could I remember how they were
dressed and what their style of coiffure was? I know that silk rustled
and there was a perfume of eau de Cologne and mignonette and my heart
expanded and blazed while I whirled like a top with a sweet lady in my
arms."

"Yes, you must have cut a ravishing figure!" interpolated Madame
Roussillon with emphatic disapproval, her eyes snapping. "A bull in a
lace shop. How delighted the ladies must have been!"

"Never saw such blushing faces and burning glances--such fluttering
breasts, such--"

"Big braggart," Madame Roussillon broke in contemptuously, "