To offset these I had my room—a room all to myself—a bed with worked hangings, and a carved cabinet. Then there were lessons on the lute and in singing, which I had always wished for. On the whole, however, the grief predominated, and I burst into tears. "Fie then!" said Jeanne, quite shocked at my want of breeding, though she had been sobbing herself a moment before. "Is it thus, mademoiselle, that you receive the condescension of madame your mother? What will she think of your bringing up?" "Madame could think but ill of her child did she show no feeling at parting with her nurse," said my mother kindly. "But cheer up, my little daughter; I hope you will be happy here. We will often visit our good friend. Come, do not show to your father a face bathed in tears." I wiped my eyes, kissed my mother's hand, which she held out to me, and managed to say, "Thank you, madame!" in a manner not quite unintelligible. Then Jeanne humbly preferred her request. Might I return to the farm for one day to partake of a farewell feast which she had it in mind to prepare? My mother smiled and consented, and I returned to the farm feeling that I had had a reprieve. The feast was a grand affair, though the company was small, consisting only of our own family and Father Simon's father and mother—very old people who lived in a cottage down near the sea-shore. Father Simon picked out his reddest apples and the finest clusters of raisins and nuts. Mother Jeanne made the most delicious galettes and cream soup thickened with chestnuts, and spread her whitest and finest cloth. The old people were the only persons of the company who thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Old Sablot chirped like a cricket, and told old stories of the wars of the League and of Henry of Navarre, and his wife commended the soup and cakes, the eggs and custards, and imparted choice secrets in cookery to her daughter-in-law, who received them with all due deference, though she often said that no Norman woman ever learned to cook. But she was always a most dutiful daughter to the old people, and had quite won their hearts, though they had been somewhat opposed to Simon's marriage in the first place. We children were very silent, as indeed became us in presence of our elders. And though we were helped to everything good on the table, we had not much appetite, and stole out, as soon as we were dismissed by a nod from the mother, to hide ourselves in the granary. Here we had a playhouse and some dolls of our own making, though we—that is, Lucille and I—were rather ashamed of playing with them. David had also a work-bench with tools and a turning-lathe, which had been his grandfather's. The old man had given them to him on his last birthday, and David had learned to use them very cleverly. We did not speak for a moment or two, and then David observed: "How dusty it is here! To-morrow we must sweep out all the chips and shavings, and make the place tidy."