“I shall like to hear that!” Miss Folly spoke in her pleasant, cordial voice. “I used to make all kinds of plans when I was at school. For some time, I meant to be a circus rider, but I decided to be a lion-tamer instead. What is your ambition, Miss Honor?”
“I wish to be a sennerin of the Alps!”
Singular it is, that so often a strange hand is needed to turn the key of a heart! Not to Madame or Soeur Séraphine, the friends of all her child-life; not to Stephanie or Vivette, her friends and intimates; not—no, not even to the mountain friends themselves, toward whom her heart was constantly yearning, could Honor have opened the door of her longing hope; but here was a bright-eyed stranger, who with a glance, a few kindly questions, plucked out the heart of her mystery. Out it came, pouring in a torrent all the swifter for the weeks of silence.
“And—and I am strong, you see; and there is no one in all the world who needs me—but no one! and I love it so; and—and when Atli and Gretli are married, Zitli will be all alone, and he is lame, and I would be his sister, and keep house and cook while he takes care of the stock; I can make cheese already, and pancakes—and—”
“Good gracious!”
Mrs. Damian was sitting bolt upright amid her cushions. Honor started violently. Mrs. Damian spoke again quickly, but now in her usual kind, abrupt tone.
“Honor, child, it is eight o’clock, and the carriage will be coming. Goodnight, little creature! You will come again soon; tell Madame What’s-her—oh! Madeleine—that I will do myself the honor of calling on her to-morrow. Miss Folly will see you home; goodnight, my dear!”
And when Honor, bewildered, had stammered her thanks and adieux and been whisked away by Miss Folly, Mrs. Damian, still sitting bolt upright, repeated several times with emphasis, “Good gracious!” Then after a pause she added: “It’s high time I came! Lord forgive me for staying away so long!”