"Monsieur Bellestre did not want me to become a nun, then?"
Jeanne asked the question gravely as a woman.
"It seems not, Mam'selle. He thinks some one may come to claim you, but that is hardly probable after all these years;" and there was a dryness in the notary's tone. "You are to be educated, but I think the sisters know better what is needful for a girl. There are no restrictions, however. I am to see that the will is carried out, and the new court is to appoint what is called a guardian. The money is to be sent to me every six months. It surely is a great shame Mam'selle has no male relatives."
"Shall we have to change, Monsieur?" asked Pani with a dread in her voice.
"Oh, no; unless Mam'selle should—" he looked questioningly at the girl.
"I shall never leave Pani." She came and stretching up clasped her arms about the woman's neck as she had in her babyhood. "And I like to go to school to the master."
"M. Bellestre counts this way, that you were three years old when you came to Detroit. That was nine years ago. And that you are twelve now. So there are four years—"
"It looks a long while, but the past does not seem so. Why, last winter is like the turn of your hand," and she turned hers over with a smile.
"Many things may happen in four years." No doubt she would have a lover and marry. "Let me go over it again."
They both listened, Jeanne wide-eyed, Pani nodding her head slowly.