When the children were undressed, Jeanne begged leave to run into Hugh's room with him to tuck him into bed, and make him feel at home the first night. There was no lamp in the room, but the firelight danced curiously on the quaint figures on the walls. "You're sure you're not frightened, Cheri?" said little Jeanne in a motherly way, as she was leaving the room. "Frightened! what is there to be frightened at?" said Hugh. "The funny figures," said Jeanne. "Those peacocks look just as if they were going to jump out at you." "I think they look very nice," said Hugh. "I am sure I shall have nice dreams. I shall make the peacocks give a party some night, Jeanne, and we'll invite Dudu and Grignan, and Houpet and the two little hens, and Nibble, of course, and we'll make them all tell stories." Jeanne clapped her hands. "Oh, what fun!" she exclaimed. "And you'll ask me and let me hear the stories, won't you, Cheri?" "_Of course_," said Hugh. So Jeanne skipped off in the highest spirits. CHAPTER III. ON A MOONLIGHT NIGHT. "O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing, And shining so round and low." CHILD NATURE. "And what did you dream, Cheri?" inquired Jeanne the next morning in a confidential and mysterious tone. Hugh hesitated. "I don't know," he said at last. "At least----" he stopped and hesitated again. The two children were having their "little breakfast," consisting of two great big cups of nice hot milky coffee and two big slices of bread, with the sweet fresh butter for which the country where Jeanne's home was is famed. They were alone in Jeanne's room, and Marcelline had drawn a little table close to the fire for them, for this morning it seemed colder than ever; fresh snow had fallen during the night, and out in the garden nothing was to be seen but smoothly-rounded white mounds of varying sizes and heights, and up in the sky the dull blue-grey curtain of snow-cloud made one draw back shivering from the window, feeling as if the sun had gone off in a sulky fit and would _never_ come back again. But inside, close by the brightly-blazing wood fire, Jeanne and Hugh found themselves "very well," as the little girl called it, very well indeed. And the hot coffee was very nice, much nicer, Hugh thought, than the very weak tea which his grandmother's maid used to give him for breakfast at home. He stirred it round and round slowly with his spoon, staring into his cup, while he repeated, in answer to little Jeanne's question about what he had dreamt, "No, I don't know." "But you did dream _something_," said Jeanne rather impatiently. "Can't you tell me about it? I thought you were going to have all sorts of funny things to tell me. You said you would have a party of the peacocks and all the pets, and make them tell stories."