Elise was going around courtesying to the ladies, and answering their inquiries. Sophie stooped to play with the cat. An old lady nearest Renée handed her a plate of small spiced cakes.
“You have gone to Monsieur Denys,” she said in a soft tone. “He is—” raising her eyes in inquiry.
“He is my uncle.” Renée made a graceful little courtesy as she said this, and thanked the lady for the cake.
“I suppose M. Denys means to settle down now,” said another. “It is high time. He ought to marry. There is nothing like a good wife.”
“That will come along,” and another nodded with a mysterious but merry smile. “That is why he is smartening up so. And he has brought some elegant stuffs from Canada to dress her in when he gets her. Madame Aubrey was in yesterday and bought of him a gown for Genevieve. He was showing her some finery that would adorn a bride. I think we shall hear before long.”
They all nodded and glanced sidewise from Elise to Sophie as if they might have something to do with it.
“I must go,” exclaimed Renée, her face flushing.
“No, wait, I am not ready,” said Sophie.
But Renée courtesied to them all and flashed through the rose-hung entrance. She ran swiftly down the street, turned the corner to her own home, and entered the gate. Mère Lunde sat at the doorway knitting.
“Where is Uncle Gaspard?” she cried breathlessly.