"Annette! Wake me up."
Annette would say, "Little rascal!" and laugh, shaking her. Sylvie would play the baby.
"Oh, dear mamma, what have I done to be so sleepy?"
Annette's great love overflowed in maternal transports. Seated on the bed, it seemed to her that the dear head which she pressed against her breast was that of her daughter. Sylvie surrendered, with little plaintive protests:
"But how shall I ever be able to go back to work, afterwards?"
"You shan't work any more."
"Why, yes, I will, the idea!" Sylvie rebelled.
In an instant she was awake; pulling herself away from her sister, sitting up straight, the tousled girl fixed Annette with a look that defied her.
"So she still thinks that we want to keep her here by force! Get along with you, my girl!" said Annette, laughing. "Go, if your heart tells you to! No one is keeping you."
"If that's the case, I'll stay!" exclaimed the spirit of contradiction. And Sylvie slipped down into the bed again, tired from her effort.