After a preface of hemming, the young man said: "Once upon a time, in a village in the south of France, it was arranged that there should be a general fete and dance on the village green the afternoon before Christmas. Little Ninon was a peasant's daughter, and she was only fourteen. If she were petite, she was also piquant and pretty--" "Very good, very good," cried a chorus of voices; and a round of applause stimulated the narrator. "Until this occasion, Ninon had always been kept at home as a child; but, after interminable coaxings, she obtained her mother's permission to go to the fete. Now her mother was a widow, and it so happened that she could not go with her daughter, and after she had given her consent had not one whom she could send with her child as a protector. But Ninon was in such glee that her mother had not the heart to take back her promise. "'Now, mother, tell me what shall I say when the boys, and perhaps some of the very young men, ask me to dance with them?' "'Say, I'm only a little child who have come to see. Go thy ways.' "'But suppose they don't go their ways,' pouted Ninon. "'Go thine then, and come home.' "'Now, mother dear, am I not almost old enough to have a lover?' "'Lover indeed! Silly child, but yesterday I rocked thee in the cradle there. I'm a fool to let thee go.' "Then Ninon, in fear, kept still, lest her mother should change her mind, a thing which women sometimes do, even in France--" "Now I protest against innuendoes," cried Lottie. "It is the Frenchman, as it is man all over the world, who changes his mind. Adam first said he wouldn't eat the apple, and then he did!" "Where's your authority for that?" said Harcourt. "It's in the Bible," answered Lottie, stoutly; at which there was a great explosion. "Miss Marsden equals modern commentators in amplifying the text," laughed Hemstead. "Well," persisted Lottie, "if it isn't just so written, I know enough of human nature to be sure that that was just how it happened." "On with the story!" cried Mr. Dimmerly. "Come, Miss Martell." "The afternoon of the fete came," said Alice, "and Ninon's mother was depressed with a boding of evil. "'Whom shall I send with thee, my child? My heart fails me in sending thee alone.' "'Little brother Pierre shall go with me,' said Ninon. 'He's an odd child, and talks to the saints and angels more than to us. If he goes with me, the saints will take care of us both.' "This seemed to strike the mother as true, and she was comforted; and the pale little boy, with large, spiritual eyes that appeared to look into the other world, took his sister's hand without even a smile flitting across his sad face; and they started for the fete. "Now, Miss Marchmont," said Miss Martell, with a graceful inclination to Addie.