“I go to America with him,” she said to Andree. “I do not know if it is America of the North or America of the South. It does not matter. I am to be his wife.” “Ah, already you are American,” said Andree, slyly. “You theenk only of marry.” “And we shall live in a toy-shop and eat nothing but candy,” said Ken. “Americans are very rich,” observed little Arlette. “My grandmother has told it to me—and that I must teach my husband that it is wicked to be careless with one’s money.... We shall not dine upon pullet.” “You see what it is to marry,” said Andree. “Already you are denied what you desire.... I theenk mademoiselle makes a marriage of money.” “It is not a marriage of money, is it, _mignonne_? No. It is for true love you marry me, is it not?” “Oh yes, yes! I love monsieur very much.” “But what is to become of me? I, too, love monsieur ver’ much,” said Andree. Arlette observed her gravely and pondered. “You, too, shall be his wife, mademoiselle,” she said. “Ah ... it seems I was wrong. After all, little Arlette is not wholly American.” The dinner was finished and Ken carried little Arlette into the _salon_ on his shoulder. She cuddled between him and Andree on the sofa, insisted upon holding his hand, and looked at Andree with calculating eye. “Have you no new _chansons, petite_?” asked Ken. “_Oui, monsieur._” And she stood up with a most serious air, taking her position just so and smoothing down her skirts. Then she tilted up her little chin and, with her eyes fixed gravely on Ken’s face, she sang a song of many verses while her grandmother stood in the door and bobbed and grinned and made signs of a great satisfaction.... It was not like a child singing, Ken thought, but like some playfellow of elves and fairies. There were about her a daintiness, an ethereal quality, a purity which was something more than merely human and of the flesh.... He wondered what life held for her; wondered if Andree might not have been just such a child with just such characteristics as she. He thought it possible ... for Andree retained some of those characteristics even now. He lifted the child in his arms and kissed her, and Arlette took her away. “You must come often,” Ken said, “because we are to be married.” “Yes, monsieur. That is understood.... It was America of the North, was it not?” “It was.” “I shall remember.... _Bon soir, monsieur. Bon soir, mademoiselle._” And she was gone. “I have many rivals,” said Andree. “It is not well.” “There is only one _you, mignonne_.” “But yes, there is only one _me_, but there are many others. Little Arlette, thees yo’ng American girl.... I wish to know thees yo’ng American girl. I will meet her.” She nodded her head several times. “You will have her come here or we shall dine together.” “Nothing doing!” “Oh, what is thees you say? I do not onderstan’. Give me the _dictionnaire_.” “The dictionary won’t help. I mean I won’t do it.” “_Pourquoi?_”