barring Master Phelim,
that's lain in the same cradle with yees--'

'Is not Victorine here, mother?' still restlessly demanded Lanty.

'Never you heed Victorine,' replied she. 'Sure she may have a little
arrand of her own, and ye might have a word for the old mother that never
parted with you before.'

'You not going, mother!' he exclaimed.

''Tis my heart that will go with you and Masther Phelim, my jewel; but
Madame la Comtesse will have it that this weeny little darlint'--caressing
the child in her lap--'could never bear the cold of that bare and
dissolute place in the north you are bound for, and old Madame la
Marquise, her mother, would be mad entirely if all the children left her;
but our own lady can't quit the little one without leaving his own nurse
Honor with him!'

'That's news to me intirely, mother,' said Lanty; 'bad luck to it!'

Honor laughed that half-proud, half-sad laugh of mothers when their sons
outgrow them. 'Fine talking! Much he cares for the old mother if he can
see the young girl go with him.'

For Lanty's eyes had brightened at sight of a slight little figure, trim
to the last degree, with a jaunty little cap on her dark hair, gay
trimmings to the black apron, dainty shoes and stockings that came
tripping down the path. His tongue instantly changed to French from what
he called English, as in pathetic insinuating modulations he demanded how
she could be making him weary his very heart out.

'Who bade you?' she retorted. 'I never asked you to waste your time
here!'

'And will ye not give me a glance of the eyes that have made a cinder of
my poor heart, when I am going away into the desolate north, among the
bears and the savages and the heretics?'

'There will be plenty of eyes there to look at your fine green and gold,
for the sake of the Paris cut; though a great lumbering fellow like you
does not know how to show it off!'

'And if I bring back a heretic _bru_ to break the heart of the mother,
will it not be all the fault of the cruelty of Mademoiselle Victorine?'

Here Estelle, unable to withstand Lanty's piteous intonations, broke in,
'Never mind, Laurent, Victorine goes with us. She went to be measured
for a new pair of slices on purpose!'

'Ah! I thought I should disembarrass myself of a great troublesome
Irishman!'

'No!' retorted the boy, 'you knew Laurent was going, for Maitre Hebert
had just come in to say he must have a lackey's suit!'

'Yes,' said Estelle,