Part 31 (1/2)

”I almost didn't know you, Marie-Jeanne,” put in Nancy. ”You have grown so plump and strong since we saw you.”

”It's all because I am happy. One can't be well if one isn't happy, and I was never so happy in all my life. I'm cooking,” cried Marie-Jeanne, in the tone of one who had surmounted all obstacles and arrived at the very acme of her ambitions. ”I'm cooking three meals a day. Look at my tins,-look at my stove,” she went on excitedly. ”Aren't they s.h.i.+ny and clean? See my blue china. Isn't it beautiful? I love to set the table so much that I can't wait for meal time to come because I want to make it pretty. We use candles at night.” She pointed to a pair of old silver candlesticks on the mantel shelf. ”Aren't they beautiful? I found them in an old shop.”

”But who else is with you, Marie-Jeanne, besides your mother?” asked Billie.

”Besides my mo--” began the other and broke off. ”A friend,” she added.

She glanced at the clock hastily. It lacked a few minutes of four.

”There is plenty of time,” she exclaimed. ”We shall have tea. I always wanted you to drink tea with me. How things do come out as one wishes at last. You must eat some of the cake I made this morning. It's a beautiful four-egg cake with white icing.”

The girls were well pleased to drink tea with Marie-Jeanne. They had much to say to each other. Where had Marie-Jeanne been since they last saw her on London Bridge? Did she like Edinburgh and was her mother quite well? Had she heard about little Arthur, who was still lost or kidnapped? To all of which questions Marie-Jeanne replied with bright nods and brief answers while she prepared the tea.

”But I can't get over your looks, dear Marie-Jeanne,” cried Billie. ”You must have gained many pounds, and it makes you so pretty, and what a pretty dress you are wearing.”

Marie-Jeanne glanced proudly down at her neat blue serge.

”It's happiness and work and good air that have improved my appearance,”

she answered, cutting the cake with a professional flourish.

Then the three girls sat down around the little stove and sipped their tea and ate cake and talked of many things.

”Doesn't your mother find it rather hard to climb these stairs?” asked Nancy.

Marie-Jeanne looked very uncomfortable.

”Have you seen the view?” she asked, pretending not to have heard Nancy's question and glancing rather uneasily at the clock.

Immediately the two girls rose to go. Perhaps Mrs. Le Roy-Jones would not be pleased to have her daughter entertaining guests in this humble lodging.

Before they left, Billie parted the muslin curtains and looked across a sea of wet roofs to the real sea beyond.

”How beautiful, Marie-Jeanne!”

”Isn't it?-and we love it. The air is splendid. Sometimes it brings a smell of heather from the moors and sometimes a salty sea smell. We are so far removed, it's like being in a tower.”

Billie's glance fell to the table near the window. Besides several novels and heavier-looking books, she saw a child's book of animals. She glanced curiously at Marie-Jeanne, who was gathering up the tea things and preparing to wash them. Underneath the big chair by the table was a pair of man's bedroom slippers almost as small as a boy's.

The three girls embraced. Perhaps they might never meet again. Certainly it did not seem likely; for the Motor Maids were leaving the Land of the Thistle in the morning and in another week would be in Ireland.

As they were parting, Billie said to Marie-Jeanne:

”Do you remember what you said to us on London Bridge that afternoon, Marie-Jeanne, about wanting to live in a house that was all gla.s.s so that you could have no secrets? Are you living in one now?”

Marie-Jeanne shook her head.

”It's not a gla.s.s house,” she answered. ”But it's a good deal better than Miss Rivers', and sometimes I deceive myself into thinking it's really a little home. It's a kind of an imitation happiness, I suppose.

Always, deep down in my heart, I know it can't last very long, but it's the nearest I have ever been to being really happy in my life.”