“You shall, my dear; you shall, if you have to be brought on a bed. When there’s a wedding,”—and she nodded brightly, as much as to say, “and there will be one soon,”—“you shall be brought there. I’ll arrange it so you can come comfortably, my dear. Have patience, you shall come.”
“How good you are, Tante Modeste,” cried Pepsie, enraptured at the promise of such happiness.
“But now, chérie,” she said, turning to Lady Jane, whose little face was expressing in pantomime her pleasure at Pepsie’s delight, “I’ve come for you this morning to take you a ride in the cart, as I promised.”
“Tante Pauline doesn’t know,” began Lady Jane dutifully. “I must go and ask her if I can.”
“I’ll send Tite,” cried Pepsie, eager to have the child enjoy what to her seemed the greatest pleasure on earth.
“Here, Tite,” she said, as the black visage appeared at the door. “Run quick across to Madame Jozain, and ask if Miss Lady can go to ride in the milk-cart with Madame Paichoux; and bring me a clean frock and her hat and sash.”
Tite flew like the wind, her black legs making zigzag strokes across the street, while Pepsie brushed the child’s beautiful hair until it shone like gold.
Madame Jozain did not object. Of course, a milk-cart wasn’t a carriage, but then Lady Jane was only a child, and it didn’t matter.
While Pepsie was putting the finishing touches to Lady Jane’s toilet, Tante Modeste and Tite Souris were busy bringing various packages from the milk-cart to the little room; butter, cream, cheese, sausage, a piece of pig, and a fine capon. When Tante Modeste came, she always left a substantial proof of her visit.
There was only one drawback to Lady Jane’s joy, and that was the necessity of leaving Tony behind.