Sometimes Lucie would listen for a while, but there was never as much laughter as during the hour when Lucie stumbling over her Latin nouns and Mons. Le Brun struggling with the English pronunciation, made merry. Monsieur always considered it a great joke to call Lucie “Mees,” and to act the part of a little boy, so if neither one made much progress at least they heartened one another and made this morning hour a pleasant one. It was one day when talking to Odette that Lucie made a discovery. Michel had just brought the daily report from the good old doctor. The boy never failed to do this errand which he voluntarily took upon himself. Pom Pom was better, a mere trifle better. It might not be permanent. Another day would show, perhaps. “That is good to hear,” cried Lucie, her face beaming, as Odette gave her the news just learned from Michel. “Now we shall see, Odette, if you are a true prophetess, when the next news comes from Victor. If he is also better I shall think that something which tells you things has spoken the truth. I wish you did not work in the fields till so late, Odette.” “But it is right that I should.” “I suppose so, but it leaves me without a companion much of the time. When Gaspard goes I suppose I shall see something of Annette again. Of course it is her duty to entertain him, for Madame Le Brun cannot take responsibilities, and in Madame Guerin’s absence Annette is really the _chatelaine_.” “There is Mons. Le Brun.” “Yes, to be sure, but those two cannot spend all the time together. I think Gaspard really prefers the others, when it comes to that. It seems rather peculiar, too.” “Why?” “I don’t know. Annette is a dear girl, and I like to be with her myself because I, too, am a girl, but Gaspard is a grown-up man. He is three years older than Victor.” “And you think grown-up men do not care for the society of young ladies? I never heard that before.” There was a little mocking look in Odette’s eyes. “Young ladies, yes, but Annette is not a young lady.” “I think you told me she is sixteen.” “You are sixteen but you are not a young lady.” “In two years she will be a young lady; she will be of marriageable age. She is not too young to be fiancée.” Lucie looked at Odette, for a moment taken aback. “Do you really think they are fianced? I never in the world thought of that. I mean to ask her. No, on second thoughts I would rather ask Mons. Le Brun. I can be more confidential with him these days than with Annette. I think if it is so that she should have told me, old friends as we are.” “It may not be arranged; it may be only going to be.” Lucie drew a long sigh. “When my friends begin to grow up like this I feel very queer and out of place. It makes me want my mother.” “It does make one feel that way,” returned Odette. “How do you know?” “I don’t know; I only judge so.” “One of those times when something tells you,” said Lucie, laughing. “Well, Odette, don’t you grow up and leave me.”