“We shall have to go up to get Pom Pom first,” returned Lucie. “He has been shut up too long a time to please him as it is. It will be a happy time for him, for he has none too much chance for being out-of-doors.”
“He knew me at once and was glad to see me, the little rascal,” said Victor.
“He will always love you best, though I do think he loves me very well,” said Lucie.
“I should have credited him with better sense,” responded Victor.
“Because of his loving me very well?” asked Lucie mischievously.
“Not at all, but because you think he loves me more. However, I do not admit that.”
Lucie laughed teasingly. She had lain awake a long time the night before, full of trouble and forebodings. She mourned her grandfather sincerely, but she was very young; she had become accustomed to thinking of him as apart from her daily life, therefore she did not miss him as she once would have done. Moreover, the promise of a day of pleasure could but cheer her up, as Victor intended it should do.
She ran upstairs, and presently Pom Pom came dashing down in a perfect turmoil of excitement, the more violent when he beheld Victor. “If I were something smaller he would eat me up,” declared Victor, trying to evade Pom Pom’s lavish bestowal of kisses. “Do you then take me for a lump of meat, Pom Pom?”
At last the dog’s ecstasies were diminished and Victor gave himself up to planning for the day’s outing. “What do you say to a little trip on the river? We may not find it possible to go very far, but a little way is not out of the question. I have a comrade who lives at Auteuil. I have promised to take word of him to his people. Would this plan be agreeable to you, Lucie, and you, Paulette?”
“I should adore it,” declared Lucie. “Isn’t it a delightful idea, Paulette?”