Lisle answered, “I wish to have three.” He put his hand in the pocket of his rough over-jacket and, drawing forth some coins, counted out the desired amount and handed it to the woman. When she had given him the small package he went out. Without waiting to buy his cake, Humphrey Trail followed him.
Humphrey was angry as he walked out of the bakery shop. They were a little in awe of him at home in the farmlands when his easy-going temper was aroused. He came up to Lisle and spoke to him without ceremony.
“Th’ art mad, lad, I tell thee, to buy cakes at a shop where spies eat and there are eyes in every corner. Th’ art a poor fool at play actin’ with tha soft speech and ways. Get tha home and, for tha mother’s sake, stay within tha house!”
They had walked slowly along the crowded rue Royale. Lisle turned and looked at his companion and suddenly he smiled.
“I like you, Humphrey Trail,” he said.
Humphrey felt his temper cooling, and as they turned into a quieter street he slackened his pace. Nothing could have happened more timely than Humphrey’s losing his temper. Had there been any vestige of suspicion as to Humphrey’s sincerity in Lisle’s mind, it vanished forever with his honest scolding.
“I like tha well myself, lad, but see that tha ken sense with tha manly ways,” Humphrey said in answer.
“It is the first time I have been there, Humphrey Trail. Our friend, Rosanne de Soigné, is staying with my mother and me. I was buying cakes for her.”
“Th’ little girl can do well without sweets these sad days if it will save her life,” he answered. As he spoke a deep sense of responsibility fell on him and then he felt a warm glow of thankfulness that the boy trusted him and was confiding in him.
They had reached the Saint Frère house and Lisle turned and held out his hand.