I shall kick you," she said viciously.

"O Jeanne, don't be angry! I'll wait and wait. I thought you had
forgotten, or changed somehow. You have been so pleasant. And you smiled
so at me this morning. I know you have liked me--"

"If ever you say another word--" raising her hand.

"I won't unless you let me. You see you are not grown up yet, but
sometimes people are betrothed when they are little children--"

She put her fingers in her ears and spun round and round, going down the
little decline. Then she remembered Pani, who had fallen asleep. She
motioned to Pierre.

"Go home," she commanded as he came toward her. "And if you ever talk
about this to me again I shall tell your father. I am not for anybody. I
shall not mind if I am one of St. Catherine's maids."

"Jeanne--"

"Go!" She made an imperative motion with her hand.

He walked slowly away. She started like a mad thing and ran through the
woods at the top of her speed until her anger had vanished.

"Poor Pierre," she said. "This talk of marriage has set him crazy. But
I could never like him, and Madame Mere just hates me."

She went slowly back to Pani and sat down by her side. How tired she
looked!

"And I dragged her way up here," she thought remorsefully. "I'm glad she
didn't wake up."

So she sat there patiently and let the woman finish her nap. But her
beautiful thoughts were gone and her mind was shadowed by something
grave and strange that she shrank from. Then Pani stirred.

"O child, I've been sleeping stupidly and you have not gathered a
flower--" looking at the empty hands. "Have you been here all the time?"

"No matter. Pani, am I a tyrant dragging you everywhere?" Her voice was
touching with regret.

"No, _cherie_. But sometimes I feel old. I've lived a great many years."

"How many?"

"Oh, I cannot count them up. But I am rested now. Shall we walk about a
little and get my knees limber? Where is Pierre?"

"He went home. Pani, it is true Marie is to be betrothed to M'sieu
Beeson, and married at Christmastide."

"And if the sign holds good Madame De Ber will be fortunate in marrying
off her girls, for, if the first hangs on, it is bad for the rest. Rose
will be much prettier, and no doubt have lovers in plenty. But it is not
always the prettiest that make the best wives. Marie is sensible. They
will have a grand time."

"And I shall not be counted in," the child said proudly.

"Jeanne, little one--" in surprise.

"Madame d