“Take it,” he said, gruffly, thrusting it towards her.
She shook her head, however, smiling at him, her hand playing with Dame Jake’s ears. Bertrand, flushing, sat down again and stared at her.
“As you will,” he said. “You like the dog, eh? Yes, I have had Jake since she was a puppy.”
There was a puzzled look in Tiphaïne’s eyes. She was wondering why the Lady Jeanne had said that Bertrand was not like Olivier or her brother Robin. He was ugly, and his clothes were shabby, and yet she discovered something in his face that pleased her. His very loneliness touched some sensitive note in the child’s soul, for she was one of those rare creatures who are not eaten up with selfishness at seven.
“Why did you not sup with us?” she asked, suddenly.
Bertrand stared at her, and felt that there was no evading those brown eyes.
“Because I was not wanted,” he answered.
This time it was Tiphaïne who gave a little frown.
“But you are Sieur Robert’s son!”
Bertrand winced, and then smiled with a twisting of the features that betrayed the truth.