“And it would be an excellent match for you, Toni,” replied his mother. “Denise is so orderly, so neat, and such a good manager, and after you have served your term and come back to Bienville, I will take you and Denise with me into the shop.”
“I can do better than that,” cried Toni. “I can be instructor in a riding-school and get three hundred francs the month, and then you can sell the shop and come and live with Denise and me.”
Madame Marcel was too sensible a woman to accept this arrangement beforehand, but replied prudently:
“Very well, if you can make three hundred francs the month, you and Denise can go and live in Paris and I will visit you twice a year, it would hardly be safe for me to give up the shop.”
“But we should be afraid to leave you there,” said Toni roguishly, chucking his mother under the chin, “with the sergeant just across the way, for he will be retired just as my time is up. You and he might elope some fine day, and then come and fall down on your knees and humbly beg my pardon.”
“I certainly shall if I elope,” replied Madame Marcel, smiling.
“The sergeant is hard hit,” continued Toni. “Let me see, you had supper with them the evening you came—that was Thursday. Then, the next morning the sergeant sent you in a melon for your breakfast, and in the afternoon, when you were sitting in the public square, he joined you. I saw him sitting on the bench beside you, but he sneaked off as soon as he saw me coming—that was Friday. Then Friday evening he put Denise up to asking you to take a walk, and you fell in with him, so Denise tells me, and he walked home with you. And to-day—”
Just then, a tap came at the door, and the sergeant, with his beautifully waxed and dyed mustaches appeared. He carried in his hand a large nosegay, and without seeing Toni, bowed low to Madame Marcel and said:
“Madame, will you honor me by accepting this little offering?”