Mrs. Gray therefore fetched the child’s white coat and cap and those other white woollen articles, which Bootles now discovered to be leggings, and quickly transformed the little woman into a sort of snowball. The two men watched the operation with intense interest.
“La figlia del wreggimento,” laughed Lacy. “I declare, Bootles, she’s quite a credit to us. I never saw such a petite mademoiselle.”
Bootles started. It reminded him who had been jilted by his friend and died for love. He had always called her Mademoiselle Mignon.
“Mademoiselle Mignon,” he said, carelessly; “not a bad name for her.”
“Vewry good,” returned Lacy, preparing to present arms.
He proved himself a much better nurse than Bootles. He gathered the child on his left arm and marched off to the anteroom, in front of which the officers were standing about, waiting for church. They set up a shout at the sight of him, and crowded round to inspect the new importation. Mademoiselle Mignon bore the inspection calmly, conscious perhaps—as she was such a knowing little person—of the effect of her big, blue, star-like eyes under the white fur of her cap.
“What a pity she ain’t twenty years older!” was the first comment, and it was said in such a tone of genuine regret that all the fellows laughed again. Miss Mignon gobbled with satisfaction.
“Seems a jolly little beggar,” said another.
“Chut—chut—chut!” remarked Miss Mignon.
“Never saw such a jolly little beggar in all my life,” asserted another voice.