r some consideration, "what room will he
have?"

"The tapestry room," said her mother. "It is the warmest, and Hugh is
rather delicate, and may feel it cold here. And the tapestry room is not
far from yours, my little Jeanne, so you can keep your toys and books
together. There is only one thing I do not quite understand in the
letter," went on Jeanne's mother, turning to her husband as she always
did in any difficulty--he was so much older and wiser than she, she used
to say. "Hugh's grandfather says Hugh has begged leave to bring a pet
with him, and he hopes I will not mind. What can it be? I cannot read
the other word."

"A little dog probably," said Jeanne's father, putting on his spectacles
as he took the letter from his wife, "a pet--gu--ga--and then comes
another word beginning with 'p.' It almost looks like 'pig,' but it
could not be a pet pig. No, I cannot read it either; we must wait to see
till he comes."

* * * * *

As Marcelline was preparing to put Jeanne to bed that night, the little
girl suddenly put her arms round her nurse's neck, and drew down her old
face till it was on a level with her own.

"Look in my face, Marcelline," she said. "Now look in my face and
confess. Now, didn't you know that mamma had got a letter to-night and
what it said, and was not that how you knew my wish would come true?"

Marcelline smiled.

"That was one way I knew, Mademoiselle," she said.

"Well, it shows I'm right not to believe in fairies any way. I really
did think at first that the fairies had told you something, but----"
suddenly she stopped as the remembrance of her adventure in the tapestry
room returned to her mind. "Dudu may be a fairy, whether Marcelline has
anything to do with fairies or not," she reflected. It was better
certainly to approach such subjects respectfully. "Marcelline," she
added, after a little silence, "there is only one thing I don't like. I
wish the little cousin were not going to sleep in the tapestry room."

"Not in the tapestry room, Mademoiselle?" exclaimed Marcelline, "why, it
is the best room in the house! You, who are so fond of stories,
Mademoiselle--why there are stories without end on the walls of the
tapestry room; particularly on a moonlight night."

"_Are_ there?" said Jeanne. "I wonder then if the little cousin will be
able to find them out. If he does he must tell them to me. Are they
fairy stories, Marcelline?"

But old Marcelline onl