The water splashed about them as they waded to the rowboat, which was resting in shallow water. Strong arms caught them, and in little more than a breath they were seated close together, Denise with her mother’s arms about her, Hortense and Marie Josephine and Cécile huddled together in a tense embrace. The schooner waited for them just beyond, through the mist. There had been no time to say good-by. Marie Josephine dashed the tears from her eyes, leaning forward. “Dian,” she called softly. “Dian, Dian, Dian!” Then she took the faded gold flower, which she had gathered on the hill road a few hours before, from the belt of her dirty smock and threw it toward the shore. It fell at Dian’s feet, where he stood with Jean and Grigge close beside him. “You will come back, all of you, Little Mademoiselle,” he said. In his eyes was the light which they all knew so well; not even the mist could hide it. He stooped and picked up the flower. It was a lily of France. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transcriber’s notes 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors; retained non-standard spellings and dialect, especially French expressions. 2. Italic text in the original is delimited by _underscores_. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Red Caps and Lilies, by Katharine Adams