"O Marie," cried Jeanne, "here is a harvest! Come at once, and if you want them don't shout to anyone."
"O Jeanne, how good you are! For you might have called Susanne, who goes to school, and I have thought you liked her better than you do me."
"No, I do not like her now. She pinched little Jacques Moet until he cried out and then she laid it to Pierre Dessau, who was well thrashed for it, and I called her a coward. I am afraid girls are not brave."
"Come nearer and let us hide in this thicket. For if I do not get a big lot of berries mother will send Rose next time, she threatened."
"You can have some of mine. Pani will not care; for she never scolds at such a thing."
"Pani is very good to you. Mother complains that she spoils you and that you are being brought up like a rich girl."
Jeanne laughed. "Pani never struck me in my life. She isn't quite like a mother, you see, but she loves me, loves me!" with emphasis.
"There are so many for mother to love," and the girl sighed.
"Jeanne," she began presently, "I want to tell you something. Mother said I must not mention it until it was quite settled. There is—some one—he has been at father's shop and—and is coming on Sunday to see mother—"
Jeanne stood up suddenly. "It is Martin Lavosse," she said. "You danced with him. He is so gay. O Marie!" and her face was alight.