"We'll
have no more maundering. Fifty years--what are fifty years! Think of
Methuselah! It's summer in the world still, and it's only spring at St.
Saviour's. It's the time of the first flowers. Let's dance--no, no,
never mind the Cure to-night! He will not mind. I'll settle it with
him. We'll dance the gay quadrille."
He caught the hands of the two youngest girls present, and nodded at the
fiddler, who at once began to tune his violin afresh. One of the joyous
young girls, however, began to plead with him.
"Ah, no, let us dance, but at the last--not yet, M'sieu' Jean Jacques!
There is Zoe's song, we must have that, and then we must have charades.
Here is M'sieu' Fynes--he can make splendid charades for us. Then the
dance at the last--ah, yes, yes, M'sieu' Jean Jacques! Let it be like
that. We all planned it, and though it is your birthday, it's us are
making the fete."
"As you will then, as you will, little ones," Jean Jacques acquiesced
with a half-sigh; but he did not look at his daughter.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37