room has a nice paper--roses and things
like that running up and down. I am very glad my room is not like this.
I don't think I should like to see all these funny creatures in the
night. You don't know how queer they look in the moonlight. They quite
frightened me once."

Hugh opened his blue eyes very wide.

"_Frightened_ you?" he said. "I should never be frightened at them. They
are so nice and funny. Just look at those peacocks, Jeanne. They are
lovely."

Jeanne still shook her head.

"I don't think so," she said. "I can't bear those peacocks. But I'm very
glad _you_ like them, Cheri."

"I wish it was moonlight to-night," continued Hugh. "I don't think I
should go to sleep at all. I would lie awake watching all the pictures.
I dare say they look rather nice in the firelight too, but still not
_so_ nice as in the moonlight."

"No, Monsieur," said Marcelline, who had followed the children into the
room. "A moonlight night is the time to see them best. It makes the
colours look quite fresh again. Mademoiselle Jeanne has never looked at
the tapestry properly by moonlight, or she would like it better."

"I shouldn't mind with Cheri," said Jeanne. "You must call me some night
when it's very pretty, Cheri, and we'll look at it together."

Marcelline smiled and seemed pleased, which was rather funny. Most
nurses would have begun scolding Jeanne for dreaming of such a thing as
running about the house in the middle of the night to admire the
moonlight on tapestry or on anything else. But then Marcelline certainly
was rather a funny person.

"And the cochon de Barbarie, where is he to sleep, Monsieur?" she said
to Hugh.

Hugh looked rather distressed.

"I don't know," he said. "At home he slept in his little house on a sort
of balcony there was outside my window. But there isn't any balcony
here--besides, it's so _very_ cold, and he's quite strange, you know."

He looked at Marcelline, appealingly.

"I daresay, while it is so cold, Madame would not mind if we put him in
the cupboard in the passage," she said; but Jeanne interrupted her.

"Oh no," she said. "He would be far better in the chickens' house. It's
nice and warm, I know, and his cage can be in one corner. He wouldn't be
nearly so lonely, and to-morrow I'll tell Houpet and the others that
they must be very kind to him. Houpet always does what I tell him."

"Who is Houpet?" said Hugh.

"He's my pet chicken," replied Jeanne. "They're all pets, of cour