She came forward to where Raymond now leaned upon the fence.
“Oh, Monsieur le Curé!” she exclaimed laughingly. “How can you say such things! Fancy! The idea! Vexed with you! It is only if you really liked it?”
“H'm!” drawled Raymond teasingly, pretending to deliberate. “When do you bake again, Madame Bouchard?”
She laughed outright now.
“To-morrow, Monsieur le Curé—and I shall see that you are not forgotten.”
“It is a long way off—to-morrow,” said Raymond mournfully; and then, with a quick smile: “But only one loaf this time, Madame Bouchard, instead of two.”
“Nonsense!” she returned. “It is a great pleasure. And what are two little loaves!”
“A great deal,” said Raymond, suddenly serious. “A very great deal, Madame Bouchard; and especially so if you send one of the two loaves to some one else that I know of.”
“Some one else?”
“Yes,” said Raymond. “To Mother Blondin.”