“Ah! the little fellow’s waking up!”
Coco opened his eyes and looked about in amazement; then ran to Denise, saying:
“Where’s my kind friend?”
“Oh! I guess we shan’t see him,” said the girl, in a tremulous voice, looking at the clock, which marked the quarter-past three, then turning her eyes on Bertrand with an imploring expression, as if to urge him to call Auguste.
“He’s a pretty little fellow,” said Virginie, passing her hand over Coco’s head. “I’d like to have a child like him, because a child gives one a respectable look.”
A bell rang in the next room.
“Monsieur is calling me,” said Bertrand; and he hurried from the salon. At the same moment little Tony ran rapidly downstairs to put the horse in the cabriolet.
Denise expected every minute to see Auguste come in. Virginie was playing with Coco. At last Denise recognized Dalville’s voice, speaking earnestly to Bertrand, and in a moment the young man entered the salon. But he had his hat on his head, his gloves in his hand, and seemed in a great hurry. The girl ran to meet him, with the child, taking her basket in her hand.
“Good-afternoon, Denise! good-afternoon, my boy!” said Auguste, kissing the child and taking no notice of Virginie. “Have you been waiting for me? I am very sorry that I can’t stay with you now.”
“Monsieur, my aunt sends you her respects,” said Denise, “and these chickens, eggs, pears, and——”