Some smiled in answer; others merely
bowed. She made enemies as well as friends, the Widow Jequier. With
only one of them she shook hands warmly-the one whose payments were
long overdue. But Madame Jequier never asked for her money; she knew
the old body's tiny income; she would pay her when she could. Only
last week she had sent her food and clothing under the guise of a
belated little Easter present. Her heart was bigger than her body.
'La famille Anglaise n'est pas encore ici,' announced the Postmaster
as though it were a funeral to come. He did not even look up. His
protests passed ever unobserved.
'But I hear them coming,' said a governess, swallowing her soup with a
sound of many waters. And, true enough, they came. There was a thunder
on the stairs, the door into the hall flew open, voices and laughter
filled the place, and Jimbo and Monkey raced in to take their places,
breathless, rosy, voluble, and very hungry. Jane Anne followed
sedately, bowing to every one in turn. She had a little sentence for
all who cared for one. Smiles appeared on every face. Mother, like a
frigate coming to anchor with a favourable wind, sailed into her
chair; and behind her stumbled Daddy, looking absent-minded and pre-
occupied. Money was uncommonly scarce just then--the usual Bourcelles
complaint.
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