She waited, listening. There was no answer except the sleepy twitter of meadow larks in the field beyond. Mother Barbette shaded her eyes from the hot noon sunshine and looked off across the deep green of grass and trees. The grass had been freshly cut and mounds of it lay about the cottage dooryard. Its sweet, warm scent was everywhere. “You are somewhere about, of that I’m sure, and now I’m going to find out!” Mother Barbette’s black eyes twinkled mischievously as she spoke. “When I went up to the big house with the eggs I heard such a piece of news!” she called out. A green mound moved suddenly in a jerking way, and the next second a dark head and two bright black eyes peered out. Then a brown hand appeared, closing quickly and just missing an elusive yellow butterfly. Then the whole of the boy came into view. He was covered with grass from head to foot. It stuck to his frayed, yellow trousers and had crept down the collar of his black blouse. It tickled his nose, and he blinked his eyes for it was even wound into his eyelashes. He had swallowed some of it, and when he saw his mother’s surprised face, he began to laugh, and then to choke, and she had to slap him on the shoulders before he could stop. As soon as he could speak, he said eagerly: “Tell me at once, Petite Mère, tell me what you heard.” He caught at her apron and pulled it. “Was there news of Paris, of the young ladies and Monsieur Lisle?” “Maybe it was that!” Mother Barbette chuckled as she spoke. “You are teasing me, Petite Mère. Tell me, is the family coming?” Jean tugged at the blue apron. He was small for his thirteen years, and had a quaint, babylike face. “Some of them are coming!” His mother was teasing now. Jean frowned but he smiled almost at the same time, so that a dimple showed in his thin cheek. “You know it is of Mademoiselle Marie Josephine I would hear. Tell me, is she coming?” he asked breathlessly. [Illustration: Jean] His mother nodded, and he began to jump up and down, up and down, until he could not jump any more. Then he threw himself down upon the mound of grass from which he had emerged and flung his broad, torn straw hat up in the air, shouting as loud as he could shout, which was very loud indeed. His mother put both her hands over her ears.