"You are that child, my Annette. Oh, be calm and strong, for the sake of the husband's love which brings you to a mother's."
* * * * *
"Letters from England!" exclaimed Annette on a fine spring day in the early new year, starting up from the terrace, on which she had been sitting with her mother, to meet George, who was coming leisurely from the house with a bundle of papers in his hand.
"Yes, letters from England; and lots of them. Here's your share; I'll talk to Maman while you read them."
Annette crammed all the letters but one into the pocket of her smart little apron, and walked slowly to and fro reading the exception, while George took her place beside Madame Vaughan.
But they did not talk; they were both looking at Annette. She had read one letter and begun another before either spoke. Then George said:
"My father is so delighted with my report, he declares he will come to Lyons himself, in the autumn. Well, what is it?" to Annette, who ran up to them laughing.
"Oh George, such fun! There's such a charming letter from Daisy. The 'season' has begun; and she is going out tremendously; and she says--but you shall read it all by-and-by--that the fine ladies are very civil, and have not the faintest notion that she is in the secrets of their 'get-up,' and tried on their bonnets and fripperies only last year. And Paul is 'no end of a good fellow'--he shouldn't teach Daisy slang like that, should he, George? And they are so happy, and they will come to us at the end of the season. I'm so glad. I don't know anything about the season; I've an idea it's an awful nuisance."
"I have an idea you had better read your letters, and not keep Maman waiting for her drive," said George gaily.
She flitted off again, and George returned to the subject of his father's letter.