“Why do you say that?” Lucie asked. “How do you know, Odette?”
“I do not know it; I only feel it. Something tells me so.”
“I wish the something would tell you that they are sure to get well,” responded Lucie.
Since coming to the country and spending so much time out-of-doors Odette had grown taller and stronger. She was naturally pale but plentiful food had given her a healthier look, and the haunting look of despair was gradually leaving her eyes. She was industrious to the last degree, and was popular with those working both indoors and out. Paulette was devoted to her, and once had said to Lucie: “She is such a child as I should wish my little Rose Marie to have been if she had lived, my Rose Marie who died when she was but three years old.” And Lucie considered that the greatest compliment that Odette could have received. The little peasant, however, showed her pride by never seeking Lucie, but was always delighted if Lucie sought her, as she did on those days when Gaspard seemed to monopolize Annette. The latter now was seldom ready to study in the morning. She would sit with her sewing in the living-room, Madame Le Brun a watchful chaperon, while Gaspard told of his experiences in the war.
Sometimes Lucie would listen for a while, but there was never as much laughter as during the hour when Lucie stumbling over her Latin nouns and Mons. Le Brun struggling with the English pronunciation, made merry. Monsieur always considered it a great joke to call Lucie “Mees,” and to act the part of a little boy, so if neither one made much progress at least they heartened one another and made this morning hour a pleasant one.
It was one day when talking to Odette that Lucie made a discovery. Michel had just brought the daily report from the good old doctor. The boy never failed to do this errand which he voluntarily took upon himself. Pom Pom was better, a mere trifle better. It might not be permanent. Another day would show, perhaps.
“That is good to hear,” cried Lucie, her face beaming, as Odette gave her the news just learned from Michel. “Now we shall see, Odette, if you are a true prophetess, when the next news comes from Victor. If he is also better I shall think that something which tells you things has spoken the truth. I wish you did not work in the fields till so late, Odette.”
“But it is right that I should.”
“I suppose so, but it leaves me without a companion much of the time. When Gaspard goes I suppose I shall see something of Annette again. Of course it is her duty to entertain him, for Madame Le Brun cannot take responsibilities, and in Madame Guerin’s absence Annette is really the chatelaine.”
“There is Mons. Le Brun.”