"She isn't strong enough yet," was Helene's reply. "The cold, shady
garden might be harmful to her."

Rosalie was in no wise convinced. A happy thought with her was not
easily abandoned. Madame must surely be mistaken in imagining that it
would be cold or harmful. Perhaps madame's objection sprang rather
from the fear that she would be in somebody's way; but that was
nonsense. Mademoiselle would of a truth be in nobody's way; not a
living soul made any appearance there. The doctor shunned the spot,
and as for madame, his wife, she would remain at the seaside till the
middle of September. This was so certain that the doorkeeper had asked
Zephyrin to give the garden a rake over, and Zephyrin and she herself
had spent two Sunday afternoons there already. Oh! it was lovely,
lovelier than one could imagine.

Helene, however, still declined to act on the suggestion. Jeanne
seemed to have a great longing to enjoy a walk in the garden, which
had been the ceaseless topic of her discourse during her illness; but
a vague feeling of embarrassment made her eyes droop and closed her
mouth on the subject in her mother's presence. At last when Sunday
came round again the maid hurried into the room exclaiming
breathlessly:

"Oh! madame, there's nobody there, I give you my word! Only myself and
Zephyrin, who is raking! Do let her come. You can't imagine how fine
it is outside. Come for a little, only a little while, just to see!"

Her conviction was such that Helene gave way. She cloaked Jeanne in a
shawl, and told Rosalie to take a heavy wrap with her. The child was
in an ecstasy, which spoke silently from the depths of her large
sparkling eyes; she even wished to descend the staircase without help
in order that her strength might be made plain. However, her mother's
arms were stretched out behind her, ready to lend support. When they
had reached the foot of the stairs and entered the garden, they both
gave vent to an exclamation. So little did this umbrageous,
thicket-girt spot resemble the trim nook they had seen in the
springtime that they failed to recognize it.

"Ah! you wouldn't believe me!" declared Rosalie, in triumphant tones.

The clumps of shrubbery had grown to great proportions, making the
paths much narrower, and, in walking, their skirts caught in some of
the interwoven branches. To the fancy it seemed some far-away recess
in a wood, arched over with foliage, from which fell a greeny light of
delightful charm and m