I haven't seen Cousin Hattie and Uncle Jacob and Ellen for years.
Again the mother yielded. "You want gaiety, I see."
"Well, I'm not pious like Irene, and this house is gloomy enough." At the sight of her mother rising from her chair, she said . . . "Let's not go to the library. Let's sit here. I hate it in there."
So there they remained while the tall candles burned lower and lower. Suddenly after a brief pause in the talk, the mother turned to Lily and said, "Et toi."
Lily shrugged her shoulders. "Moi? Moi? Je suis contente."
"Et Madame Gigon, et le petit Jean."
"They are well . . . both of them. I have brought a picture which I've been waiting ito show you."
"He is married, you know."
"When?
"Only three weeks ago. He came here after your letter to offer to do anything he could. He wants the boy to go to school in America."
Here Lily smiled triumphantly. "But Jean is mine. I shall accept nothing from him. He is afraid to recognize Jean because it would ruin him. I shall send the boy where I like." She leaned forward, glowing with a sudden enthusiasm. "You don't know how handsome he is and how clever." She pushed back her chair. "Wait, I'll get his picture."
The mother interrupted her. "Bring me the enameled box from my dressing table. There is something in it that will interest you."
