He became grave, however, when he saw Rose's pained expression. "I think it better not to yield," she said, in a low voice. "Calm thyself, Narcisse, thou shalt not get out."
"I will," gasped the child. "You are a bad mother. The Englishman may run away if I leave him. You know he is going."
"Let me have him for a minute," said Vesper. "I will talk to him," and, reaching out his arms, he took the child from the blacksmith, who swung him over the side of the wagon.
"Come get a drink of water," said the young American, good-humoredly. "Your little face is as red as a turkey-cock's."
Narcisse pressed his hot forehead to Vesper's cheek, and meekly allowed himself to be carried into the house.
"Now don't be a baby," said Vesper, putting him on the kitchen sink, and holding a glass of water to his lips; "I am coming after you in half an hour."
"Will you not run away?"
"No," said Vesper, "I will not."
Narcisse gave him a searching look. "I believe you; but my mother once said to me that I should have a ball, and she did not give it."
"What is it that the Englishman has done to the child?" whispered Madame Pitre to her neighbor, when Vesper brought back the quiet and composed Narcisse and handed him to his mother. "It is like magic."