"But, him I have already," cried Margaret. "What I want, madame has—oh, and to spare."
"Well, and what is it I am to give?" said madame, coldly.
"A little love," she whispered.
"Ah, do you say such things to René?"
"No, never. It is he who says them to me. Oh, I am waiting. A lapful I want of thee," and she held up her skirts to receive the gift.
"How saucy thou art," said Mrs. Swanwick.
"It is no affair of thine, Friend Swanwick," cried the Pearl. "I wait, Madame."
"I must borrow of my son," said the vicomtesse. "It shall be ready at thy wedding. Thou wilt have to wait."
"Ah," said René, "we can wait. Come, let us gather some peaches, Margaret," and as they went down the garden, he added: "My mother said 'thou' to you. Did you hear?"
"Yes, I heard. She was giving me what I asked, and would not say so."