“Exactly! Did you hear her?”
“No—but that is what she used to call me when I was little.”
“It was that day she swore that the little one had recognized her, and laughed!”
“Oh, yes!”
“And then another time, when I went into her room—mother’s room—she didn’t hear me because the door was open, but I saw her. She was in ecstasy before the little boots which the baby wore at baptism—you know?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Listen, then. She had taken them and she was embracing them!”
“And what did you say then?”
“Nothing; I stole out very softly, and I sent across the threshold a great kiss to the dear grandmother!”
Henriette sat for a moment in thought. “It didn’t take her very long,” she remarked, “today when she got the letter from the nurse. I imagine she caught the eight-fifty-nine train!”