Mathilde took her home again, and Jeanne left to herself longed, full of renewed animation, for her children. Soon they came, refreshed with their bout in the open, and she embraced them [[156]]almost impetuously, and let them tell her where they had been, what they had done. And when Dora was a little peevish, she joked and played with the little weakling until she laughed. Life did not seem quite so sombre now; why not be a bit cheerful?
CHAPTER XVII.
Lili sat reading in the small drawing-room, when Frédérique entered. She had been paying some visits and came to finish her afternoon at the Verstraetens’.
“Is Marie out?” asked Freddie.
“No,” answered Lili; “we have been out. Marie is still up-stairs.”
“What is Marie doing there?” resumed Frédérique, in some surprise. “What in Heaven’s name is she always doing up-stairs lately? Whenever I come here, she is up-stairs. You haven’t fallen out, have you?”
“Oh no; not at all,” replied Lili. “Marie is doing some drawing, I believe; or perhaps she has some writing to do, as she often has.”
“Writing what—a letter?”
“Oh, no—a novel, or something of the sort; but you had better not say anything about it; perhaps she does not like us to know.”