"Of course, of course," she answered eagerly, her eyes lighting up. "I am not myself, sir, able to overlook the house--but, Anne, you will see to--to this being done?" "My dear mother, we have no room!" the girl replied; and stooping, hid her face while she whispered in her mother's ear. Then aloud, "We are so full, so--it goes so well," she continued gaily. "We never have any room. I am sure, sir,"--again she faced him across the bed--"it is a disappointment to my mother, but it cannot be helped." "Dear, dear, it is unfortunate!" Madame Royaume exclaimed; and then with a fond look at her daughter, "Anne manages so well!" "Yet if there be a room at any time vacant?" "You shall assuredly have it." "But, mother dear," the girl cried, "M. Grio and M. Basterga are permanent on the floor below. And Esau and Louis are now with us, and have but just entered on their course at college. And you know," she continued softly, "no one ever leaves your house before they are obliged to leave it, mother dear!" The mother patted the daughter's hand. "No," she said proudly. "It is true. And we cannot turn any one away. And yet," looking up at Anne, "the son of Messer Mercier? You do not think--do you think that we could put him----" "A closet however small!" Claude cried. "Unfortunately the room beyond this can only be entered through this one." "It is out of the question!" the girl responded quickly; and for the first time her tone rang a little hard. The next instant she seemed to repent of her petulance; she stooped and kissed the thin face sunk in the pillow's softness. Then, rising, "I am sorry," she continued stiffly and decidedly. "But it is impossible!" "Still--if a vacancy should occur?" he pleaded. Her eyes met his defiantly. "We will inform you," she said. "Thank you," he answered humbly. "Perhaps I am fatiguing your mother?" "I think you are a little tired, dear," the girl said, stooping over her. "A little fatigues you." Madame's cheeks were flushed; her eyes shone brightly, even feverishly. Claude saw this, and having pushed his plea and his suit as far as he dared, he hastened to take his leave. His thoughts had been busy with his chances all the time, his eyes with the woman's face; yet he bore away with him a curiously vivid picture of the room, of the bow-pot blooming in the farther dormer, of the brass skillet beside the green boughs which filled the hearth, of the spinning wheel in the middle of the floor, and the great Bible on the linen chest beside the bed, of the sloping roof, and a queer triangular cupboard which filled one corner. At the time, as he followed the girl downstairs, he thought of none of these things. He only asked himself what mystery lay in the bosom of this quiet house, and what he should say when he stood in the room below at bay before her. Of one thing he was still sure--sure, ay and surer, since he had seen her with her mother,