I was greatly in awe of her at first, but I soon learned to love her as well as Mother Jeanne herself.
Mrs. Grace greeted me with prim courtesy.
"We must take orders for some dresses for our young lady, Grace," said my mother, speaking French. "Will you see what we have for her?"
Mrs. Grace opened an armoire, from which she drew a quantity of stuffs and silks, and an animated conversation ensued.
My mother kindly allowed me to choose what I liked best, and we were in the full tide of discussion, when there was a knock at the door, and my father entered with a very disturbed face, which brightened as he met my mother's glance.
"Heyday, what have we here?" said he. "Has Mrs. Grace taken a new doll to dress?"
"This is our little one, Armand," said my mother. "I have taken her home, judging that it is time to complete her education, and also for a companion."
"That is well," said he. "Come hither, my little one, and see thy father."
I approached timidly, bent my knee, and kissed the hand he held out to me.
He laid the other on my head and solemnly gave me his blessing. Then, holding me off and looking at me: