"Mon Dieu!" cried Rose, opening her eyes very wide. "A mystery under our very noses! What can it mean? There's something wrong somewhere, isn't there?"
"I don't know anything about it; it is none of my business, and I never interfere in other people's."
"You dear old Granny Grumpy! And now that I've had enough to eat, why don't you ask me about my visit to Ottawa, and what kind of time I had?"
"Because I really don't care anything about it. However, I trust you enjoyed yourself."
"Enjoyed myself!" shrilly cried Rose. "It was like being in paradise! I never had such a splendid, charming, delightful time since I was born! I never was so sorry for anything as for leaving."
"Really!"
"Oh, Grace! it was beautiful—so gay, so much company; and I do love company! A ball to-night, a concert to-morrow, a sociable next evening, the theatre, dinner-parties, matinees, morning calls, shopping and receptions! Oh," cried Rose, rapturously, "it was glorious!"
"Dear me!" said Grace, stitching away like a sewing-machine; "it must have been a great trial to leave."
"It was. But I am going back. Dear Ottawa! Charming Ottawa! I was excessively happy in Ottawa!"
She laid hold of a kitten slumbering peacefully on a rug as she spoke, and went waltzing around the room, whistling a lively tune. Grace looked at her, tried to repress a smile, failed, and continued her work. She was very, very pretty, this second daughter of Captain Danton, and quite unlike the other two. She was of medium height, but so plump and rounded as to look less tall than she really was. Her profuse hair, of dark, chestnut brown, hung in thick curls to her waist; her complexion was dark, cheeks round and red as apples, her forehead low, her nose perfection, her teeth like pearls, her eyes small, bright and hazel. Very pretty, very sparkling, very piquant, and a flirt from her cradle.