"
Bebee laughed happily, and took another peep in the cosy rose-satin nest.
But her little face had a certain perplexity. Suddenly she turned on him.
"Did not _you_ put them there?"
"I?--never!"
"Are you quite sure?"
"Quite; but why ask?"
"Because," said Bebee, shutting the box resolutely and pushing it a
little away,--"because I would not take it if you did. You are a
stranger, and a present is a debt, so Antoine always said."
"Why take a present then from the Varnhart children, or your old friend
who gave you the clasps?"
"Ah, that is very different. When people are very, very poor, equally
poor, the one with the other, little presents that they save for and
make with such a difficulty are just things that are a pleasure;
sacrifices; like your sitting up with a sick person at night, and then
she sits up with you another year when you want it. Do you not know?"
"I know you talk very prettily. But why should you not take any one
else's present, though he may not be poor?"
"Because I could not return it."
"Could you not?"
The smile in his eyes dazzled her a little; it was so strange, and yet
had so much light in it; but she did not understand him one whit.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70