“Do you value these boxes?” she asked, caressing a little pig that she had taken in her arms.
“Not at all; they enclosed the perfumes and tonics, but they are useless now.”
They returned to the office, Saniel carrying the boxes.
“We will set the table here,” she said, gayly, for Saniel told her that the dining-room was uninviting, as it was a small bacteriological laboratory.
The table was set by Phillis, who went and came, walking about with a gracefulness that Saniel admired.
“You are doing nothing,” she said.
“I am watching you and thinking.”
“And the result of these thoughts?”
“It is that you have a fund of good-humor and gayety, an exuberance of life, that would enliven a man condemned to death.”
“And what would have become of us, I should like to know, if I had been melancholy and discouraged when we lost my poor papa? He was joy itself, singing all day long, laughing and joking. He brought me up, and I am like him. Mamma, as you know, is melancholy and nervous, looking on the dark side, and Florentin is like her. I obtained a place for Florentin, I found work for mamma and for myself. We all took courage, and gradually we became calm.”