"Nay, that was too bad; work, work, work--thy pretty
back should not be bent double yet. You want a holiday, Bebee; well,
the Fete Dieu is near. Jeannot shall take you, and maybe I can find a few
sous for gingerbread and merry-go-rounds. You sit dull in the market all
day; you want a feast."
Bebee colored behind the hedge, and ran in and brought three new-laid
eggs that she had left in the flour-bin in the early morning, and thrust
them on him through a break in the brier. It was the first time she had
ever done anything of which she might not speak: she was ashamed, and yet
the secret was so sweet to her.
"I am very happy, Jehan, thank God!" she murmured, with a tremulous
breath and a shine in her eyes that the old man's ears and sight were too
dull to discern.
"So was _she_" muttered Jehan, as he thrust the eggs into his old
patched blue blouse,--"so was she. And then a stumble--a blow in the lane
there--a horse's kick--and all was over. All over, my pretty one--for
ever and ever."
CHAPTER XX.
On a sudden impulse Flamen, going through the woodland shadows to the
city, paused and turned back; all his impulses were quick and swayed him
now hither, now thither, in many contrary ways.
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