"And she sent for you on purpose?" the child enquired, with increasing respect.
"Well, I was the only one as would come at the price. 'Tain't big wages; but I'm seein' loife. Lor', I come down here with Madame and Mounseer a fortnight ago, and Monte Carlo ain't got many secrets from me. I was a duffer, though, at first. When I 'eerd all them shots poppin' off every few minutes, up by the Casino, I used to think 'twas the suicides a shooting theirselves all over the place, for before I left 'ome, I 'ad a warnin' from my young man that was the kind of goin's on they 'ad here. But now I know it's only the pigeon shooters, tryin' for prizes, and I wouldn't eat a pigeon pie in this 'otel, not if 'twas ever so!"
"Do they ever have them?" asked the little girl, awed.
"Not as I knows of, but they may for Christmas. I sye, are you lookin' forward to your Christmas, kiddy?"
"Angel—that's Mother, I mean—says I'm not going to have much of a Christmas this year. I'm trying not to mind. I suppose it's because Santa Claus can't get to the Riviera, with his sleigh and reindeer. How could he, Miss Jane, when there's no snow, and not even a scrap of ice?"
"Pshaw!" said Miss Jane. "It ain't Santa Claus brings you things, snow or no snow. Only babies believe that. You're old enough to know better. It's your father and mother does it all."
"Are you sure?" asked Rosemary.
"Dead sure. Don't be a silly and cry, now, just because there ain't any Santa Claus, nor any fairies."
"It isn't that," said the little girl. "It's because I can never have any more Christmases, if it depends on a father. You know, I haven't a father."
"I supposed you 'adn't, as 'e ain't 'ere, with yer ma," replied the young person. "She's mighty pretty."