“How would it be possible for you to be any tenderer than you always have been?” asked Antoine.
“Because experience widens and deepens our natures, and
“‘Hearts, like apples, are hard and sour,
Till crushed by pain’s resistless power.’”
“God mellowed yours, then, in long-gone ages, for nobody ever found a hard spot in your heart.”
“A royal flatterer!” exclaimed Margaret gayly. “I shall have to kiss you for that,” and Margaret sank on her knees beside the wheel chair and printed a resounding smack upon the lad’s pale cheek.
“I’m jealous!” cried a gay voice at the door, and the next instant Elsie was on the other side of the chair and Antoine’s arms were around her neck.
“Home again! Home again!” he cried with a little break in his voice.
“For just about six hours, so tongues must fly at a mile a minute. I have heaps and heaps to tell,” and breathless Elsie sank into a chair and said nothing.
“Why don’t you tell it?” asked Antoine.