"Can I never have Auntie Dora again?" she asked, pitifully.
"My little darling, in a long, long while. But there will be new aunties and a grandmamma."
"I don't want any one but just you." And she kissed him with a trembling eagerness that touched his heart. Suddenly a new and exquisite emotion thrilled him. This little morsel of humanity was all his. She had nothing in the world nearer, and there was no other soul to which he could lay entire claim.
After that she was a curious study to him. Gentle, yet in some respects firm to obstinacy, with a dainty exclusiveness that was extremely flattering, and that somehow he came to like, to enjoy with a certain pride.
As for Madame Lepelletier, she was rather amused at first to have her advances persistently repelled, her tempting bonbons refused, and though she was not extravagantly fond of children, she resolved to conquer this one's diffidence or prejudice, she could not quite decide which.
One day, nearly at the close of their journey, she teased Cecil by her persistence until the child answered with some anger.
"Cecil!" exclaimed Mr. Grandon, quickly.
The pretty child hung her head.
"Go and kiss Madame Lepelletier and say you are sorry. Do you know that was very rude?" said her father.
"I don't want to be kissed. I told her so," persisted the child, resolutely.