Major d'Artrot said, "I have brought little Jeanne to be our guest until her aunt is better."
And all the little d'Artrots flocked about Jeanne and tried to make her feel at home.
It was all so strange to little Jeanne from the city. She had been taken away from Auntie—Auntie, who lay ill and needed her.
But the Major told her to come. He told her that Auntie wished her to come with him. If Auntie wished it, Jeanne must go. But otherwise she would never—could never—have left poor sick Auntie Sue.
Once outside in the fresh, pure country air, Jeanne began to forget a little. With rabbits and dogs and cats about her and the merry chattering of the Major's children, she could not help it.
Jeanne's eyes were alive, and her heart was gay. She was one of the little fairies of play, and that kind of fairy cannot remain sad for long.
Besides, the Major's children had games and playthings of which Jeanne had never before heard. Even Pierrot was excited. It was all Jeanne could do to hold him from jumping into the little stream.
Jeanne soon had the young d'Artrots acquainted with Pierrot. Indeed, the young d'Artrots fell quite in love with sprightly Pierrot.
In the meantime the Major recounted to his wife the happenings which had befallen him in Paris.
"Poor woman!" he told Madame d'Artrot, as he described Suzanne's plight. "She is ill because of the wrong she committed so many years ago. She could tell nobody about it.