“Well, you’re a queer little woman,” he rejoined. “You worry when I don’t expect it, and when I do, you don’t.”
“There’s nothing to worry about in this case,” she said.
“That’s odd. I thought you’d be struck all of a heap. I nearly was when I took in the situation.”
“Do you suppose that child is going back to France?”
“I guess so. It looks like it. I’ve had a great talk with the priest. When I get him alone I can understand his lingo better. I got out of him some information about the de Vargas. He acknowledges that they’re a proud, ugly-tempered kind of a family, and the young ones in it are as upsetting and unmanageable as the old ones, which isn’t usual among French children. The grand-uncle is furious with this boy. He’ll not have an easy time in France. The old man won’t have the boy live in the château because he has the name of being unmanageable, and he would talk his Bonapartism, which isn’t fashionable in the neighborhood. Bess, what is the difference between the old noblesse and the new?”
“I don’t know exactly. We’ll have to read about France, Stephen.”
“The priest says that the de Vargas belong to the new. He says if the boy was willing it would be far better for him to remain in this country, for he will be sure to get himself into trouble in France; but he knows he won’t stay here, so he is planning to take him back and keep an eye on him. He says he’ll try to squeeze money enough out of the grand-uncle to send him away to school. What are you smiling about?”
“Stephen,” said Mrs. Hardy gently but decidedly, “that boy belongs to us. He will live and die in this country.”
“Are you crazy, Bess?”