"Oh, some nonsense about accent, as if the only accent to be considered was the French." Mrs. Gano threw back her head. "And then a cousin of the Tallmadges married a Frenchman, a man called De Poincy. The mother died, and left a boy—"
"That awful little ape in the pho— I mean Henri?"
"Yes; Henri, a very nice boy."
Mrs. Gano would not have prolonged the conversation, but Emmie said:
"I'm sure he's nice. Cousin Ethan's letters always say beautiful things about Henri. Do go on."
"I've told you scores of times."
As if that were not the flimsiest reason for not repeating a stock tale, half of whose charm is its familiarity.
"Didn't cousin Ethan find Henri at the Tallmadges' when he got back?"
"Yes, after that summer he spent here." The old eyes were mild. "And although Henri was a couple of years older, the two boys set up a sort of David and Jonathan league. And when Henri's father sent for him to come back to France—they said—humph!"
The mildness vanished in a sudden blaze.