"Let me comb and braid your hair for you," said Rose as Therese began her preparations. "See, I will curl it for once as I used to wear mine when I was a little girl."
Much pleased, Therese submitted to the curling.
When she had finished, Mrs. Beaubien cut out a thick black curl from the beautiful mass.
"There! I will keep that for myself and give you a keepsake in return," said she. She put her hand into her pocket and drew out an old-fashioned gold miniature setting containing on one side a pretty picture of a young lady in the dress of Louis XIV.'s time, and on the other a place for hair. The picture was attached to a hair chain, which she threw over Therese's neck.
"That has been in our family for centuries, and has always belonged to the oldest daughter," said she. "It shall be yours now. I have braided a chain of my own hair for it. Show it to mother and she will tell you its history. Now I am going to walk down with you as far as the stone step."
The stone step was a kind of stile leading over the wall into Hector McGregor's pasture.
"I must go no farther," said Mrs. Beaubien, when they had reached this place. "When shall you come home again?"
"Next Saturday, perhaps. Good-bye, mother."
Rose Beaubien caught her child in her arms and silently kissed her over and over again. Then, hastily withdrawing herself, she walked quickly back without once turning round.
When Therese went to bed that night, she missed her little French Testament. "It is very odd; I am sure I put it in my pocket when I finished reading. I must go up and get it some day this week."