That gave some present comfort to Pani. But she began to be restless and wanted to return to her own cottage.
"You must not live alone," said Wenonah.
"But I want to be there. If my darling comes it is there she will search for me."
When Wenonah found she could no longer keep her by persuasion or entreaty, she went home with her one day. The tailor's widow had taken some little charge of the place. It was clean and tidy.
Pani drew a long, delighted breath, like a child.
"Yes, this is home," she exclaimed. "Wenonah, the good Mother of God will reward you for your kindness. There is something"—touching her forehead in piteous appeal—"that keeps me from thinking as I ought. But you are sure my little one will come back, like a bird to its nest?"
"She will come back," replied Wenonah, hardly knowing whether she believed it herself or not.
"Then I shall stay here."
She was deaf to all entreaties. She went about talking to herself, with a sentence here and there addressed to Jeanne.
"Yes, leave her," said Margot. "She was good to me in my sorrow, and petite Jeanne was an angel. The children loved her so. She would not go away of her own accord. And I will watch and see that no harm happens to Pani, and that she has food. The boys will bring her fagots for fire. I will send you word every day, so you will know how it fares with her."