“Mignon has been very kind to Bootles,” Mignon explained, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
“My Mignon! my baby!” the mother sobbed. Bootles watched them—the two things he loved best on earth.
“Have you nothing to say to me?” he asked at last.
“What shall I say?” She had risen from her knees, and now moved shyly away.
“You might say,” said Bootles, severely, “that you are very sorry that you, a married woman, deceived me and stole my heart away. You might say that, for one thing.”
“But I am not sorry,” cried Mignon’s mother, audaciously.
“Then you might take a leaf out of Mignon’s book, and say, as she says when I have a headache, ‘Mignon loves Bootles.’”
Bootles watched them—the two things he loved best on earth