“That is all very well, Justin, but you cannot expect me to house the girl! I vow ’tis preposterous! Think of Edward!”

“Pray hold me excused. I never think of Edward unless I can help it.”

“Justin, if you are minded to be disagreeable——”

“Not at all, my dear.” The smile faded from his lips. Fanny saw that his eyes were unwontedly stern. “We will be serious for once, Fanny. Your conviction that I had brought my mistress to your house——”

“Justin!”

“I am sure you will forgive my plain speaking. That conviction, I say, was pure folly. It has never been my custom to compromise others by my numerous affairs, and you should know that I am sufficiently strict where you are concerned.” There was peculiar meaning in his voice, and Fanny, who had once been famed for her indiscretions, dabbed at her eyes.

“How c-can you be s-so unkind! I do not think you are at all nice to-day!”

“But I trust I have made myself plain? You realize that the child I have brought you is but a child?—an innocent child?”

“I am sorry for her if she is!” said her ladyship spitefully.

“You need not be sorry. For once I mean no harm.”

“If you mean her no harm how can you think to adopt her?” Fanny tittered angrily. “What do you suppose the world will say?”

“It will be surprised, no doubt, but when it sees that my ward is presented by the Lady Fanny Marling its tongue will cease to wag.”

Fanny stared at him.

“I present her? You’re raving! Why should I?”

“Because, my dear, you have a kindness for me. You will do as I ask. Also, though you are thoughtless, and occasionally exceedingly tiresome, I never found you cruel. ’Twere cruelty to turn my infant away. She is a very lonely, frightened infant, you see.”

Fanny rose, twisting her handkerchief between her hands. She glanced undecidedly at her brother.

“A girl from the back streets of Paris, of low birth——”

“No, my dear. More I cannot say, but she is not born of the canaille. You have but to look at her to see that.”

“Well, a girl of whom I know naught—foisted on me! I declare ’tis monstrous! I could not possibly do it! What would Edward say?”

“I am confident that you could, if you would, cajole the worthy Edward.”

Fanny smiled.

“Yes, I could, but I do not want the girl.”

“She will not tease you, my dear. I wish you to keep her close, to dress her as befits my ward, and to be gentle with her. Is it so much to ask?”

“How do I know that she will not ogle Edward, this innocent maid?”

“She is too much the boy. Of course, if you are uncertain of Edward——”

She tossed her head.

“Indeed, ’tis no such thing! ’Tis merely that I’ve no wish to house a pert, red-headed girl.”

His Grace bent to pick up his fan.

“I crave your pardon, Fanny. I’ll take the child elsewhere.”

Fanny ran to him, penitent all at once.

“Indeed and you shall not! Oh, Justin, I am sorry to be so disobliging!”

“You’ll take her?”

“I—yes, I’ll take her. But I don’t believe all you say of her. I’ll wager my best necklet she’s not so artless as she would have you think.”

“You would lose, my dear.” His Grace moved to the door into the antechamber, and opened it. “Infant, come forth!”

Léonie came, her cloak over her arm. At sight of her boy’s raiment Fanny closed her eyes as though in acute pain.

Avon patted Léonie’s cheek.

“My sister has promised to care for you until I can take you myself,” he said. “Remember, you will do as she bids you.”

Léonie looked shyly across at Fanny, who stood with primly set lips and head held high. The big eyes noted the unyielding pose, and fluttered up to Avon’s face.

“Monseigneur—please do not—leave me!” It was a despairing whisper, and it amazed Fanny.

“I shall come to see you very soon, my babe. You are quite safe with Lady Fanny.”

“I don’t—want you to go away! Monseigneur, you—you do not understand!”

“Infant, I do understand. Have no fear; I shall come back again!” He turned to Fanny, and bowed over her hand. “I have to thank you, my dear. Pray convey my greetings to the excellent Edward. Léonie, how often have I forbidden you to clutch the skirts of my coat?”

“—I am sorry, Monseigneur.”

“You always say that. Be a good child, and strive to bear with your petticoats.” He held out his hand, and Léonie dropped on one knee to kiss it. Something sparkling fell on to those white fingers, but Léonie turned her head away, surreptitiously wiping her eyes.

“F-Farewell, Mon—monseigneur.”

“Farewell, my infant. Fanny, your devoted servant!” He made a profound leg, and went out, shutting the door behind him.

Left alone with the small but forbidding Lady Fanny, Léonie stood as though rooted to the ground, looking hopelessly towards the shut door, and twisting her hat in her hands.

“Mademoiselle,” said Fanny coldly, “if you will follow me I will show you your apartment. Have the goodness to wrap your cloak about you.”

“Yes, madame.” Léonie’s lip trembled. “I am—very sorry, madame,” she said brokenly. A tiny sob escaped her, valiantly suppressed, and suddenly the icy dignity fell from Fanny. She ran forward, her skirts rustling prodigiously, and put her arms about her visitor.

“Oh, my dear, I am a shrew!” she said. “Never fret, child! Indeed, I am ashamed of myself! There, there!” She led Léonie to the sofa, and made her sit down, petting and soothing until the choked sobs died away.

“You see, madame,” Léonie explained, rubbing her eyes with her handkerchief. “I felt so—very lonely. I did not mean to cry, but when—Monseigneur—went away—it was so very dreadful!”

“I wish I understood!” sighed Fanny. “Are you fond of my brother, child?”

“I would die for Monseigneur,” said Léonie simply. “I am here only because he wished it.”

“Oh, my goodness gracious me!” said Fanny. “Here’s a pretty coil! My dear, be warned by me, who knows him! Have naught to do with Avon: he was not called Satanas for no reason.”

“He is not a devil to me. And I do not care.”

Fanny cast up her eyes.

“Everything is upside down!” she complained. Then she jumped up. “Oh, you must come up to my chamber, child. ’Twill be so droll to clothe you! See!” She measured herself against Léonie. “We are very much of a height, my love. Perhaps you are a little taller. Not enough to signify.” She fluttered to where Léonie’s cloak had fallen, caught it up, and wrapped it about her charge. “For fear lest the servants should see and chatter,” she explained. “Now come with me.” She swept out, one arm about Léonie’s waist, and, meeting her butler on the stairs, nodded condescendingly to him. “Parker, I have my brother’s ward come unexpectedly to visit me. Be good enough to bid them prepare the guest-chamber. And send my tirewoman to me.” She turned to whisper in Léonie’s ear. “A most faithful, discreet creature, I give you my word.” She led the girl into her bedroom, and closed the door. “Now we shall see! Oh, ’twill be most entertaining, I dare swear!” She kissed Léonie again, and was wreathed in smiles. “To think I was so dull! ’Pon rep, I owe my darling Justin a debt of gratitude. I shall call you Léonie.”

“Yes, madame.” Léonie recoiled slightly, fearing another embrace.

Fanny tripped to her wardrobe.

“And you must call me Fanny, my dear. Off with those—those dreadful clothes!”

Léonie glanced down at her slim figure.

“But, madame, they are very fine clothes! Monseigneur gave them to me.”

“Indelicate creature! Off with them, I say! they must be burned.”

Léonie sat down plump upon the bed.

“Then I will not take them off.”

Fanny turned, and for a moment they stared at one another. Léonie’s chin was tilted, her dark eyes flashed.

“You are very tiresome,” pouted Fanny. “What can you want with man’s attire?”

“I will not have them burned!”

“Oh, ’tis very well, my dear! Keep them if you will!” said Fanny hastily, and wheeled about as the door opened. “Here is Rachel! Rachel, this is Mademoiselle de Bonnard, my brother’s ward. She—she wants some clothes.”

The tirewoman gazed at Léonie in horrified wonder.

“So I should think, my lady,” she said austerely.

Lady Fanny stamped her foot.

“Wicked, insolent woman! Don’t dare to sniff! And if you say a word below-stairs, Rachel——”

“I would not so demean myself, your ladyship.”

“Mademoiselle—has come from France. She—she was compelled to wear those garments. It does not matter why. But—but now she wants to change them.”

“No, I do not,” said Léonie truthfully.

“Yes, yes, you do! Léonie, if you are disagreeable, I shall lose my temper!”

Léonie looked at her in some surprise.

“But I am not disagreeable. I only said——”

“I know, I know! Rachel, if you look like that, I vow I will box your ears!”

Léonie crossed one leg under her.

“I think I will tell Rachel everything,” she said.

“My dear! Oh, as you please!” Fanny flounced to a chair, and sat down.

“You see,” said Léonie gravely, “I have been a boy for seven years.”

“Lawks, miss!” breathed Rachel.

“What is that?” inquired Léonie, interested.

“It is nothing!” said Fanny sharply. “Go on, child.”

“I have been a page, Rachel, but now Monseign—I mean, the Duc of Avon—wants to make me his—his ward, so I have to learn to be a girl. I do not want to, you understand, but I must. So please will you help me?”

“Yes, miss. Of course I will!” said Rachel, whereupon her mistress flew up out of her chair.

“Admirable creature! Rachel, find linen! Léonie, I implore you, take off those breeches!”

“Don’t you like them?” inquired Léonie.

“Like them!” Fanny waved agitated hands. “They are monstrous improper! Take them off!”

“But they are of an excellent cut, madame.” Léonie proceeded to wriggle out of her coat.

“You must not—you positively must not speak of such things!” said Fanny earnestly. “’Tis most unseemly.”

“But, madame, one cannot help seeing them. If men did not wear them——”

“Oh!” Fanny broke into scandalized laughter. “Not another word!”

For the next hour Léonie was bundled in and out of garments, while Fanny and Rachel twisted and turned her, laced her and unlaced her, and pushed her this way and that. To all their ministrations she submitted patiently, but she displayed no interest in the proceedings.

“Rachel, my green silk!” commanded her ladyship, and held out a flowered petticoat to Léonie.

“The green, my lady?”

“The green silk that became me not, stupid girl! Quickly! ’Twill be ravishing with your red hair, my love!”

She seized a brush, and proceeded to arrange the tumbled curls. “How could you cut it? ’Tis impossible to dress your hair now. No matter. You shall wear a green riband threaded through, and—oh, hasten, Rachel!”

Léonie was put into the green silk. It was cut low across the chest, to her evident confusion, and spread over a great hoop below the waist.

“Oh, said I not that ’twould be ravishing?” cried Fanny, stepping back to look at her handiwork. “I cannot bear it! Thank goodness Justin is to take you into the country! You are far, far too lovely! Look in the mirror, ridiculous child!”

Léonie turned to see herself in the long glass behind her. She seemed taller, all at once, and infinitely more beautiful, with her curls clustering about her little pointed face, and her big eyes grave and awed. Her skin showed very white against the apple-green silk. She regarded herself in wonder, and between her brows was a troubled crease. Fanny saw it.

“What! Not satisfied?”

“It is very splendid, madame, and—and I look nice, I think, but——” she cast a longing glance to where her discarded raiment lay. “I want my breeches!”

Fanny flung up her hands.

“Another word about those breeches, and I burn them! You make me shudder, child!”

Léonie looked at her solemnly.

“I do not at all understand why you do not like——”

“Provoking creature! I insist on your silence! Rachel, take those—those garments away this instant! I declare I will not have them in my room.”

“They shall not be burned!” said Léonie challengingly.

Fanny encountered the fierce glance, and gave vent to a little titter.

“Oh, as you will, my love! Put them in a box, Rachel, and convey them to Mistress Léonie’s apartment. Léonie, I will have you look at yourself! Tell me, is it not a modish creation?” She went to the girl and twitched the heavy folds of silk into position.