"Maister Anne's bedtime," she observed severely, and stood waiting.
Almost at the same moment Baptiste appeared at her side, in his hands a salver, and on the salver a china bowl. "M. le Comte mangera-t-il avant de monter, ou dans sa chambre?" he inquired.
M. le Comte looked from his retainers to his grandfather. His preference was so clearly visible in his expression that Mr. Elphinstone, whipping off his spectacles, said:
"He will have his bread-and-milk down here to-night, Baptiste. I will ring for you, Elspeth, when he has finished."
Mrs. Saunders retired, with a tightening of her tight lips, and the old valet, advancing victoriously, placed the steaming bowl on the table beside the volume of Orme's British India which had been engaging the child's attention. Anne-Hilarion, who had screwed himself round in his chair, turned his dangling legs once more tablewards.
For a few minutes nothing was heard in the large, book-lined room, this July evening, but the noise of a spoon stirring the contents of a bowl, and the old gentleman by the fireless hearth went on with his reading. But presently the spoon grew slower in its rounds, and Mr. Elphinstone, looking up, beheld a large silent tear on its way to join the bread-and-milk.
"My child, what is the matter?" he exclaimed in dismay. "Is it too hot?"
The Comte de Flavigny produced a handkerchief, not too clean. "I think," he said falteringly, "that I want Papa to-night."
"My poor lamb!" murmured the old man. "I wish to God that I could give him to you. See now, my bairn, if you were to bring your bowl here and sit on Grandpapa's knee?" He held out his arms, and the small boy slipped from his chair, went to him, and, climbing to his lap, wept a little silently, while his bread-and-milk steamed neglected on the table, and the deep frilled muslin collar round his neck was crumpled, unregarded, against Mr. Elphinstone's breast.
"I wish I could go to France and see Papa!" said Anne-Hilarion presently.