“Oh, if she had, what would be left for us?” and Renée made a mirthfully despairing face.
“You need not feel alarmed.”
“Oh, I don’t,” with enchanting gayety. “In the first place, I am not tall enough, not grand enough. Then my hair should be raven black, and it is such a funny no-color.”
“It is very handsome,” he replied decidedly. “Sometimes in the sun it looks as if it had gold dust sprinkled over it. And then I’ve seen it look as if the top of every wave was touched with silver.”
“That is very beautiful, André. I will try to recall the compliment when it looks to me like a gray-brown. And my nose, see——”
“Ma’m’selle, you wrinkle it up and it makes you look piquant, saucy. You couldn’t make it bad if you tried.”
“Oh, yes! Look!” She put her finger to the tip of it and gave it a tiny hitch and then laughed.
“That shows your curved lips and your lovely teeth. Even that wouldn’t make you a fright.”
“Oh, André, how good and comforting you are! But Wawataysee, with her little Indian blood, is a hundred times handsomer. Only—I am very glad I suit you and Uncle Gaspard. He thinks I grow like my mother.”
She had been half-dancing round the room in the blaze of the logs. Families often kept no other light. Now she came and sat down opposite him, demure as a nun. She had so many fascinating, changeful ways. He had always considered her a child, but now she was a charming young girl. This was one of the places where Valbonais felt entirely at home, because there was no danger of being misinterpreted by any watchful mamma. He was not quite ready to marry.