“You are not really a prig, Hortense, but you do sound like one sometimes. None of us are as nice as Mother Barbette and we never can be—none of us, except Lisle,” she said. Cécile held a great sheaf of white and gold lilies in her arms. Their sweetness blew about the girls in the gentle wind. It was hot, with a hazy, sleepy heat of mid-September. It was a little over a month since they had come to Les Vignes. “Don’t squabble, girls. See these beauties. I am going to give some to old Martin for the supper table to-night. It is so warm we could almost have supper out of doors,” Cécile said, sitting down on a low chair beside Hortense. “Why do you say almost, Cécile! Of course, we shall have supper outside to-night, of course we shall! There comes Le Pont now. I’m going to run and ask her. She must say 'Yes,’ for it will be a wonderful evening!” Marie Josephine called this over her shoulder as she ran to meet the governess who was coming toward them down the terrace steps. She caught Madame le Pont’s hands in both of hers and swung them back and forth, and the kindly, worried face of the little woman brightened. “It is the most beautiful day in all the world, Le Pont. It is a fairy day. Jean says that the birds and flowers talk to him right here in the Les Vignes woods when it is like this!” “You are happy. That is well, little one. Yes, it is like the long ago days at Fontainebleau that I remember so well. We used to hunt in the forest.” Madame le Pont sighed as she spoke and, taking Marie Josephine’s hand, walked with her toward the others. “Cheer up, Le Pont dear, and do say that we may have supper on the terrace, for we have set our hearts on it, all of us, even old lady Hortense!” coaxed Marie Josephine as Hortense and Cécile rose to give the governess a chair. “Sit here please, Madame. I will walk a little way with Marie Josephine, who is going to Madame Barbette’s cottage,” said Cécile, putting her arm about Marie Josephine and holding the lilies across her shoulder with her other hand. “Wait for me one moment while I give these lilies to Martin, chérie. May I tell him, Madame, that we may have supper on the terrace?” Cécile turned toward Madame le Pont as she spoke. The governess nodded, smiling a little sadly. “Yes, of course, if it pleases you, children, and if the night air is not too chill,” she answered as she sat down in Cécile’s chair beside Hortense, her satin bag of work in her hand.