“Oh! what nonsense,” said Jeannet. “My dear parents, I will never leave you again!”
“Hum!” replied Ragaud, “you said that a hundred times before, and then what did we see? One fine morning, no Jeannet!”
“We must tie him,” said old Germaine, laughing; “when Jeannette misbehaved in school, I used to tie her by the arm to an end of the bench.”
“I remember it well,” said Jeannette; “and more than once I broke the string.”
“Then we must find some other means, if that will not do; think of something, Germaine,” replied Ragaud, winking over at the children.
“Think yourself, M. Ragaud,” said she. “Are you not master here?”
“That depends,” replied Ragaud. “If I were master, I would say to Jean-Louis, Marry, my boy; when you will have a wife and children, they will keep you in the country more than all the ropes, even that of our well. But Jeannet has declared he will not hear of marriage; and here is Jeanne, who can't be relied upon for advice, as she said the same thing not more than a month ago, in presence of M. le Curé; so we can't sing that tune any longer.”
“But how do you know? Perhaps by this time they have both changed their minds,” said the curé, smiling.
“Let them say so, then,” replied Ragaud, his eyes beaming with paternal tenderness that was delightful to see.
“O father!” said Jean-Louis, rising, “if I dared to understand you, I would be wild with joy!”