“Hh! I’d like to see one.”
Two keen old eyes peered up at her from beneath the wide hat.
“Mam’selle does not believe?”
There was reproach in the accent; but the girl answered undauntedly,—
“Not one bit. I’ll wait till I have seen one.”
Madame Gagnier shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.
“How shall you see, having no eyes at all?”
Nancy’s brown eyes snapped in defiant contradiction of the slight put upon them. It was no part of her plan to be drawn into theological discussion. However, theological discussion being forced upon her, she had no mind to give way. Motherless from her childhood, Nancy Howard had never been trained in the purely feminine grace of suppressing her opinions.
“I not only have eyes; but I have a little common sense,” she answered aggressively.
The next instant, she was conscious of a sudden wave of contrition. Madame Gagnier unclasped her wrinkled hands and crossed herself devoutly.