You must stop in this
gallery for ten minutes by the French clock yonder--with the door shut. You
must give us ten minutes' law, Mr. Lettsome, as you did the hare the other
day, when I was out with you--and then you may begin to look for us.
Promise."
"Stay, little miss, you will be outside the house belike, roaming lord
knows where; in the shrubberies, or the barns, or halfway to Oxford--while
we are made fools of here."
"No, no. We will be inside the house."
"Do you promise that, pretty lady?"
"Yes, I promise."
Mrs. Dorothy suggested that there had been enough of childish play, and
that it would be pleasanter to sit in the saloon with her ladyship, and
hear Monsieur de Malfort sing.
"I'll wager he was singing when you saw him just now."
"Yes, he is always singing foolish French songs--and I'm sure you can't
understand 'em."
"I've learnt the French ever since I was as old as you, Mistress
Henriette."
"Ah! that was too late to begin. People who learn French out of books know
what it looks like, but not what it sounds like."
"I should be very sorry if I could not understand a French ballad, little
miss."
"Would you--would you, really?" cried Papillon, her face alight with impish
mirth.
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