The Tapestry Room | Page 5

might as well say you saw the
tortoise there too."
"If I had called him perhaps he would have come too; I believe Dudu
and he are great friends," thought Jeanne to herself, for her mind was in
a queer state of confusion, and she would not have felt very much
astounded at anything. But aloud she only repeated, "I'm sure he was
there, dear papa."
And to satisfy her, her kind father, though he was not so young as he
had been, and the bad weather made him very rheumatic, mounted
upstairs to the tapestry room, and carefully examined the window
inside and out.
"Nothing of the kind to be seen, my little girl," was his report. "Master
Dudu was hobbling about in the snow on his favourite terrace walk as
usual. I hope 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 continued, "must have been a branch of the ivy
blown across the window. In the moonlight, and with the reflections of
the snow, things take queer shapes."
"But there is no wind, and the ivy doesn't grow so high up, and the ivy
could not have croaked," thought Jeanne to herself again, though she
was far too well brought up a little French girl to contradict her father
by saying so.
"Perhaps so, dear papa," was all she said.
But her parents still looked a little uneasy.
"She cannot be quite well," said her mother. "She must be feverish. I
must tell Marcelline to make her a little tisane when she goes to bed."
"Ah, bah!" said Jeanne's white-headed papa. "What we were speaking
of will be a much better cure than tisane. She needs companionship of
her own age."
Jeanne pricked up her ears at this, and glanced at her mother
inquiringly. Instantly there started into her mind Marcelline's prophecy
about her wish.
"The naughty little Marcelline!" she thought to herself. "She has been
tricking me. I believe she knew something was going to happen.
Mamma, my dear mamma!" she cried, eagerly but respectfully, "have
you something to tell me? Have you had letters, mamma, from the
country, where the little cousin lives?"
Jeanne's mother softly stroked the cheeks, red enough now, of her
excited little daughter.
"Yes, my child," she replied. "I have had a letter. It was for that I sent
for you--to tell you about it. I have a letter from the grandfather of
Hugh, with whom he 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 he has other
grandchildren, and we need him, do we not, my Jeanne? My little girl
needs a little brother--and I loved his mother so much," she added in a
lower voice.
Jeanne could not speak. Her face was glowing with excitement, her
breath came quick and short, almost, it seemed, as if she were going to
cry. "O, mamma!" was all she could say--"O mamma!" but her mother
understood her.
"And when will he come?" asked Jeanne next.
"Soon, I hope. In a few days; but it depends on the weather greatly. The
snow has stopped the diligences in several places, they say; but his
grandfather writes that he would like Hugh to come soon, as he himself
has to leave home."
"And will he be always with us? Will he do lessons with me, mamma,
and go to the château with us in summer, and always be with us?"
"I hope so. For a long time at least. And he will do lessons with you at
first--though when he gets big he will need more teachers, of course."
"He is a year older than I, mamma."
"Yes, he is eight."
"And, mamma," added Jeanne, after some consideration, "what room
will he have?"
"The tapestry room," said her mother. "It is the warmest, and Hugh is
rather delicate, and may feel it cold here. And the tapestry room is not
far from yours, my little Jeanne, so you can keep 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 much older and wiser than she, she used to
say. "Hugh's grandfather says Hugh has begged leave to bring a pet
with him, and he hopes I will not mind. What can it be? I cannot read

the other word."
"A little dog probably," said Jeanne's father, putting on his spectacles as
he took the letter from his wife, "a pet--gu--ga--and then comes another
word beginning with 'p.' It