return home on foot all the same; I like it. Besides, I have my
umbrella."

Jeanne was reflecting as she gazed gravely on her last spoonful of
vermicelli; and at last her thoughts took shape in words: "Rosalie
said you wouldn't come because of the wretched weather; but mamma said
you would come. You are very kind; you always come."

A smile lit up all their faces. Helene addressed a nod of affectionate
approval to the two brothers. Out of doors the rain was falling with a
dull roar, and violent gusts of wind beat angrily against the
window-shutters. Winter seemed to have returned. Rosalie had carefully
drawn the red repp curtains; and the small, cosy dining-room,
illumined by the steady light of the white hanging-lamp, looked,
amidst the buffeting of the storm, a picture of pleasant, affectionate
intimacy. On the mahogany sideboard some china reflected the quiet
light; and amidst all this indoor peacefulness the four diners
leisurely conversed, awaiting the good pleasure of the servant-maid,
as they sat round the table, where all, if simple, was exquisitely
clean.

"Oh! you are waiting; so much the worse!" said Rosalie familiarly, as
she entered with a dish. "These are fillets of sole _au gratin_ for
Monsieur Rambaud; they require to be lifted just at the last moment."

Monsieur Rambaud pretended to be a gourmand, in order to amuse Jeanne,
and give pleasure to Rosalie, who was very proud of her
accomplishments as a cook. He turned towards her with the question:
"By the way, what have you got for us to-day? You are always bringing
in some surprise or other when I am no longer hungry."

"Oh," said she in reply, "there are three dishes as usual, and no
more. After the sole you will have a leg of mutton and then some
Brussels sprouts. Yes, that's the truth; there will be nothing else."

From the corner of his eye Monsieur Rambaud glanced towards Jeanne.
The child was boiling over with glee, her hands over her mouth to
restrain her laughter, while she shook her head, as though to
insinuate that the maid was deceiving them. Monsieur Rambaud thereupon
clacked his tongue as though in doubt, and Rosalie pretended great
indignation.

"You don't believe me because Mademoiselle Jeanne laughs so," said
she. "Ah, very well! believe what you like. Stint yourself, and see if
you won't have a craving for food when you get home."

When the maid had left the room, Jeanne, laughing yet more loudly, was
seized with a longing to sp