"Well, just as you like. When you want your broth you can ask for it. I'll give you all you want, and even play with you, if you get tired. Say, do you want me to play with you?"
"No," said Charlot, frowning fiercely.
"Very good; then play alone," said Thérence, quietly, setting him on the floor. "I am going into the courtyard to see the pretty little black horse."
She moved to go; Charlot wept; Thérence pretended not to hear him till he came to her. "Dear me! what's the matter?" she said, as if surprised; "make haste and tell me, for I am going,—I can't wait."
"I want to see the pretty little black horse," sobbed Charlot.
"Then come along; but stop crying, for he runs away when he hears children cry."
Charlot choked down his sobs, and went off to stroke and admire the clairin.
"Should you like to get on him?" asked Thérence.
"No, I'm afraid."
"I'll hold you."