She stopped here, and looked anxiously at her father. He was pale and trembling. "Are you ill, father?" questioned his daughter.
"No, I'm not ill, although I do not feel quite well. Make me a totaïe," he said, "then I'll go to bed and try to sleep off my indisposition."
His daughter did as her father requested.
When she was out of the room, Frank asked Mr. Rougeant what he meant by a totaïe.
"Oh, it's a capital thing," responded the latter, "toasted bread soaked in warm cider. You swallow cider and all; if that does not drive a cold away, nothing will."
While the young lady was busily engaged in toasting the bread, Frank thought it best to take his leave.
Mr. Rougeant asked him to pay them a visit on the morrow. The young man promised to call. He managed to overcome his timidity sufficiently to raise his eyes as he took leave of Adèle. Her eyes met his, she blushed and immediately dropped her eyelids.
Through the eyes the souls had spoken.