ork, I
used to lay the cloth very well, didn't I?"

"Very well, indeed," said Mrs. Scott.

And then, while begging the Cure to excuse Bettina's want of thought,
she, too, took off her hat and mantle, so that Jean had again the very
agreeable spectacle of a charming figure and beautiful hair; but, to
Jean's great regret, the catastrophe had not a second representation.

In a few minutes Mrs. Scott, Miss Percival, the Cure, and Jean were
seated round the little vicarage table; then, thanks partly to the
impromptu and original nature of the entertainment, partly to the
good-humor and perhaps slightly audacious gayety of Bettina, the
conversation took a turn of the frankest and most cordial familiarity.

"Now, Monsieur le Cure," said Bettina, "you shall see if I did not speak
the truth when I said I was dying of hunger. I never was so glad to sit
down to dinner. This is such a delightful finish to our day. Both my
sister and I are perfectly happy now we have this castle, and these
farms, and the forest."

"And then," said Mrs. Scott, "to have all that in such an extraordinary
and unexpected manner. We were so taken by surprise."

"You may indeed say so, Susie. You must know, Monsieur l'Abbe,
that yesterday was my sister's birthday. But first, pardon me,
Monsieur--Jean, is it not?"

"Yes, Miss Percival, Monsieur Jean."

"Well, Monsieur Jean, a little more of that excellent soup, if you
please."

The Abbe was beginning to recover a little, but he was still too
agitated to perform the duties of a host. It was Jean who had undertaken
the management of his godfather's little dinner. He filled the plate of
the charming American, who fixed upon him the glance of two large eyes,
in which sparkled frankness, daring, and gayety. The eyes of Jean,
meanwhile, repaid Miss Percival in the same coin. It was scarcely three
quarters of an hour since the young American and the young officer had
made acquaintance in the Cure's garden, yet both felt already perfectly
at ease with each other, full of confidence, almost like old friends.

"I told you, Monsieur l'Abbe," continued Bettina, "that yesterday was my
sister's birthday. A week ago my brother-in-law was obliged to return to
America, but at starting he said to my sister, 'I shall not be with you
on your birthday, but you will hear from me.' So, yesterday, presents
and bouquets arrived from all quarters, but from my brother-in-law, up
to five o'clock, nothing--nothing. We were