"No; it's my skirt,—my dress,—I'm slipping out of it. Look out, monsieur, for—I'm—coming—oh!"
And come she did, head first, minus the dress skirt, plump into the startled young man's arms.
CHAPTER V[ToC]
"Me voilà!" said Fouchette, gaining her feet and lightly shaking her ruffled remains together, as if she were a young pullet that had calmly fluttered down from the roost.
"Well, you're a bird!" he ejaculated, the more embarrassed of the two.
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, but for you I'd soon have been a dead bird! I thank you ever so much."
She reached up at him and succeeded in pecking a little kiss on his chin. It was her first attempt at the masculine mouth and she could scarcely be censured if she missed it.