When the lesson was over, and Lady Jane ran to tell her friend of this latest stroke of good fortune, Pepsie showed all her white teeth in a broad smile of satisfaction.
“Well, Lady,” she said, “you are a lucky child. You’ve not only found a music-teacher, but you’ve found a dancing-master.”
CHAPTER XVIII
LADY JANE’S CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
Christmas came and went; and whatever hopes, desires, or regrets filled the loving little heart of Lady Jane, the child kept them to herself, and was outwardly as bright and cheerful as on other days, although Pepsie, who watched her closely, thought that she detected a wistfulness in her eyes, and, at times, a sad note in the music of her happy voice. If the affection that finds expression in numerous Christmas gifts can make a child contented, Lady Jane had certainly no reason to complain.
The first thing on which her eyes fell when she awoke was her stockings, the slender legs very much swollen and bulged, hanging in madame’s chimney-corner, waiting to be relieved of their undue expansion. Even Raste—the extravagant and impecunious Raste—had remembered her; for a very dressy doll, with a French-gilt bangle encircling its waist (the bangle being intended not for the doll, but for Lady Jane), bore a card on which was inscribed in bold characters, “M. Adraste Jozain,” and underneath the name, “A mery Crismus.” Adraste was very proud of his English, and as Lady Jane was more grateful than critical it passed muster. Then there was a basket of fruit from Gex, and beside the basket nestled a little yellow duckling which came from Mam’selle Diane, as Lady Jane knew without looking at the tiny old-fashioned card attached to it. And, after she had been made happy at home, she still had another pleasure in store, for Pepsie, wishing to witness the pleasure of her little friend, had the Paichoux presents, with her own and Madelon’s, beautifully arranged on her table, and carefully covered, until the important moment of unveiling. Every Paichoux had remembered Lady Jane, and a finer array of picture books, dolls, and toys was never spread before a happier child; but the presents which pleased her most were a small music box from Madelon, a tiny silver thimble from Pepsie, and Mam’selle Diane’s little duckling. These she kept always among her treasures.
“The day I like best,” said Pepsie, after Lady Jane had exhausted all the adjectives expressive of admiration, “is the jour de l’an, New Year’s, as you call it. Then Tante Modeste and the children come and bring bonbons and fireworks, and the street is lighted from one end to the other, and the sky is full of rockets and Roman candles, and there is so much noise, and every one is merry—because the New Year has come.”
At that moment, Tite Souris entered with an expressive grin on her ebony face, and an air of great mystery:
“Here you, chil’runs, I done got yer Crismus; doan’ say nufin ’bout it, ’cause ’t ain’t nufin’ much. I ain’t got no money ter buy dolls an’ sech; so I jes bought yer boaf a ‘stage-plank.’ I lowed yer might lak a ‘stage plank.’”
Unfolding a large yellow paper, she laid a huge sheet of coarse black ginger-bread on the table among Lady Jane’s treasures.
“Thank you, Tite,” said Lady Jane, eyeing the strange object askance. “What is it?”