The child had seen Andree, but it was necessary that she become acquainted with the entire family, it seemed. It was another shock for Kendall—the idea that fat, respectable, motherly Arlette should take delight in bringing this baby to make the acquaintance of Madeleine!... It was impossible. In America grandmothers would have shut their grandchildren in locked rooms to prevent any contact with a girl about whom they had the knowledge Arlette possessed of Madeleine.... Why, Arlette had gotten breakfast for Madeleine in that apartment! Yet she brought the baby to see her, and fairly wriggled with delight when Madeleine caught little Arlette up in her arms and kissed her and called her endearing names. The old woman could scarcely contain her pride and delight when Madeleine turned to tell her how pretty the child was!... It was bewildering. “You must sing,” Madeleine said to Arlette. “I know you can sing many songs. Oh, I have heard. See. Stand you so, and sing.” So little Arlette stood erect and lifted her little chin without embarrassment and sang, while her grandmother, in the door, waggled her head and kept time by a ponderous swaying of her body.... Little Arlette ran to Kendall, always her favorite, and crawled between him and Andree, who had seated herself beside him. She insinuated her arm about his neck and pressed her cheek to his, while she intrusted a hand to Andree to be held. “_Mignonne!_” said Andree, tremulously. “Good efening, sirr,” said little Arlette, suddenly, and her grandmother giggled in the very great pride of hearing this English spoken. “Aha!” said Kendall, “you study English.... She is getting ready to go back to America with me. Yes, indeed. I have asked for her hand. We are sweethearts, aren’t we, Arlette?” “Yes, monsieur,” she said, very seriously. “You love me very much?” “Yes, monsieur.” “You learn to cook and to sew and all the things a wife should know?” “Yes, monsieur.... When shall we go to this America? Is it America of the North or of the South?” “Of the North, _petite_....” “Oh, my uncle was once in America of the South.” “It is not quite the same. But it is just as nice. Really. Shall we take grandma with us when we go?” “If monsieur desires.” She was very serious and grown-up in her manner; even then there was something feminine, something of the woman in her, for she turned her face toward Andree with eyes that seemed to say: “You see. He is mine. It is no use for you to try to steal him from me.” Andree made pretense to draw away from her and to cry. “You are ver’ naughty,” she said from between her fingers. “You steal away my sweetheart. Oh, what shall I do?... What shall I do?” Little Arlette smiled out of a great satisfaction at this discomfiture of a rival, and openly kissed Kendall. “Now, come,” called Arlette. “You must not bother monsieur. Say good night.”