The Third Miss St Quentin

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managed their affairs, not without a good deal of chatter about it, it must be confessed. "Silly creatures," the raven was in the habit of calling them with contempt-all to himself, of course, for no one understood the different tones of his croaking, even though he was a French raven and had received the best of educations. But to-day he was too depressed in spi

ted disposition; but to-day, it must be allowed, h

ugh it was only half-past three in the afternoon, they thought it was no use sitting up any longer on such a make-believe of a day, when not the least little ray of sunshine had succeeded in creeping through the leaden-gre

was pressing it hard on to the icy window-pane and staring out on to the deserted, snow-covered garden, and thinking how cold it was, and wishing it was summer time again, and fancyi

g dark, and the white snow ou

ant who just then opened the door; "Mademoiselle Jeanne

had been all alone in the room for some time, with not a sound ab

in bed, and you, Marcelline, would make me nice things to eat, and n

offended at anything. She was so old that for many years no one had seen much difference in her-she had reached a sort of settled oldness, like an arm-chair which may once have been covered with bright-coloured silk, but which, with time and wear, has got to have an all-over-old look which never seems to get any worse. Not that Marcelline was dull or grey to look at-she was

smiled. Sometimes Jeanne liked to see her smile; sometimes it would make her impatient, and she

o answer would be, "Well, Mademois

the fire and stared into it. It was pretty to look at just then, for the wood was burning redly, and at the tiniest touch a whole bevy of lovely sparks would fly out like bees from a hive, or a covey of birds, or better still, like a thousand imprisoned fairies escaping at some magic touch. Of all things, Jeanne loved t

, are they not, Marc

up at her, she saw by the light of the fire tha

nt you to speak very much, for it is so dull, and I have nothing to do. I wan

selle? You have got all out of my old head long ago; a

e stories if I tried, I daresay, and I am only seven, and

ne shook

Mademoiselle

ou will never tell me the name of. Oh, I do like that one about the Golden Princess shut up in the castle by the sea! I like stories about princesses b

She in her turn was looking in

emoiselle, quick, quick. Wish a wish before t

nne. "When you tell me to be quick it all g

not say it aloud. Never mind, it is all right. You have wished

up at Marcelline with an expressio

w it will come

till as Jeanne's own, had a half-mischievous look

say. And when the time comes for your wish to

us. "Do the fairies tell you things, Marcelline? Not

elline. "In that country I have told you

y see fairies there?" asked Jean

get her to tell her any fairy stories, and had to content herself with making

es before, the facteur had rung at the great wooden gates of the courtyard-a rather rare event, for in those days letters came only twice a week-but this, too, little Jeanne had not heard. She must have grown dr

n't know you had gone away. What does mamma want? O M

five o'clock! Oh no, you will wake up nic

in summer, for then I can play in the garden with Dudu and the tortoise, and all the creatures

anger things have happened than that y

ly. "Do you know something, Marcelline? Tell me, do.

ting for you in the salon. We can talk about y

, for it was always neatly plaited in two tails that hung down her back, as was then the fashio

e Jeanne's quarters, at the other a room which had had for her since her babyhood a mingled fascination and awe. It was hung with tapestry, very old, and in some parts faded, b

wonder what Dudu is doing, poor old fellow. Oh, how cold he must be! I suppose Grignan is asleep

wn again, something like a little umbrella. No doubt he was a very rare and wonderful chicken, and if I were clever about chickens I would be able to tell you all his remarkable points. B

ing. And Grignan has no heart at all; I suppose tortoises never have; only he is very comical, which is nearly as nice. As for Dudu, I really cannot say, he is so stuck up, as if he knew better than any one else. Ah, there

wn the terrace. Jeanne could clearly distingu

, wouldn't he, Dudu? Oh, you stupid Dudu, why won't you speak to me? I wish you would come up here; there's a beautiful castle and garden in the tapestry, where you would have two peacocks to play with;" for just at that moment the moon, passing from under a cloud, lighted up one s

e words a loud croak from the raven sounded in her ears, and turning round, there, to her amazement, she saw Dudu st

e in. Why do you mock me by cal

by this time, Jean

sill all in a minute? And I don't think a raven fairy would be nice at all; he'd be a sort of an imp, I expect. I wouldn't mind now if Houpet was a fairy, he's so gentle and l

s were so pale and her eyes so startled-looking that her moth

stioned; but after a while she confessed that she had run into the tapestry room on her way down, and that the moonlig

father; "impossible, my child! Why, Dudu could not by any conceivable me

ught Jeanne to herself, for her mind was in a queer state of confusion, and she would not have fel

ad been, and the bad weather made him very rheumatic, mounted upstairs

pe the servants give him a little meat in this cold weather, by the by. I must speak to Eugène about it. What you fancied was Dudu, my little Jeanne," he

d not have croaked," thought Jeanne to herself again, though she was far too

ear papa," was

still looked a

he must be feverish. I must tell Marcelline to

we were speaking of will be a much better cure tha

her mother inquiringly. Instantly there started i

w something was going to happen. Mamma, my dear mamma!" she cried, eagerly but respectfully, "have yo

the cheeks, red enough now, o

has lived since his parents died, and he accepts my invitation. Hugh is to come to live with us, as his mother would have wished. His grandfather can spare him, for

came quick and short, almost, it seemed, as if she were going to cry. "

he come?" ask

has stopped the diligences in several places, they say; but his grandfather

lessons with me, mamma, and go to the chate

ll do lessons with you at first-though when he

ar older th

he is

, after some consideration

your toys and books together. There is only one thing I do not quite understand in the letter," went on Jeanne's mother, turning to her husband as she always did in any difficulty-he was so muc

m his wife, "a pet-gu-ga-and then comes another word beginning with 'p.' It almost looks like 'pig

he little girl suddenly put her arms round her nurse's neck, a

nfess. Now, didn't you know that mamma had got a letter to-night and

line s

y I knew, Mademo

dventure in the tapestry room returned to her mind. "Dudu may be a fairy, whether Marcelline has anything to do with fairies or not," she reflected. It was better certainly to approach

room in the house! You, who are so fond of stories, Mademoiselle-why there are stor

cousin will be able to find them out. If he does he mus

rcelline o