"Why, that is funny!" cried Miette.
But she suddenly felt that the word was not dignified enough.
"That is very strange," she said: "for I, too, recognized you from your photograph; and it was only five minutes ago, at the very moment when you arrived, that I was looking at it, up-stairs in my room. Shall I go up and find the album?"
Monsieur Roger held her back.
"No, my child," said he, "remain here by me, and tell me something about your father and your mother."
Miette looked up at the clock.
"Papa and mamma may return at any moment. They will talk to you themselves a great deal better than I can. All that I can tell you is that they are going to be very, very glad; but they did not expect you until the evening. How does it happen that you are here already?"
"Because I took the first train,—the 6.30."
"But your telegram?"
"Yes, I sent a despatch last night on arriving at Paris, but I did not have the patience to wait for an answer. I departed, hoping they would receive me anyway with pleasure; and I already see that I was not mistaken."