Agapit wrinkled his forehead. "True; yet I assure you they have had no communication except through you and the childish scrawls of Narcisse."
Bidiane was surprised. "Does he not send her things?"
"No, mademoiselle."
"But her furniture is French."
"There are French stores in the States, and Rose travels occasionally, you know."
"Hush,—she is coming back. Ah! the adorable woman."
Agapit threw his advancing cousin a glance of affectionate admiration, and went to assist her with the tea things.
Bidiane watched him putting the tray on the table, and going to meet Célina, who was bringing out a teapot and cups and saucers. "Next to Mr. Nimmo, he is the kindest man I ever saw," she murmured, curling herself up in a rattan chair. "But we are not talking," she said, a few minutes later.
Rose and Agapit both smiled indulgently at her. Neither of them talked as much as in former days. They were quieter, more subdued.
"Let me think of some questions," said the girl. "Are you, Mr. LeNoir, as furious an Acadien as you used to be?"