Little Jeanne of France

Grandmother was looking for her.

Margot and Jeanne stepped out from behind the screen and found Grandmother preparing to leave. Auntie Sue stood beside her with pencil and pad.

"Thank you, Madame," said Auntie Sue gratefully, "for your splendid order to-day. It was indeed kind of you to make so many purchases at my little shop."

Madame answered, "I am truly pleased with your charming wares, my dear Mademoiselle Moreau. Besides, you know, my dear friend Major d'Artrot is also a friend of yours."

"But Madame," said Auntie Sue, as the grandmother and her little Margot started out of the door, "I have not yet taken your name. I do not know – ."

"Of course, of course," laughed Madame Villard. "How very forgetful of me! Please write my name and address, so you will know where to send the little things."

Suzanne seated herself at a tiny desk and, with pencil poised, looked up at the sweet face above her.

Madame dictated: "Madame Paul Villard. Avenue Champs Elysées."

The pencil dropped from Auntie Sue's hand. Her head fell forward. Jeanne rushed over to the little desk and caught Auntie Sue as she was about to fall.

"Auntie, Auntie dear, what is the matter?" she cried.

Little Margot picked up the pencil while both children and Madame Villard hovered over the desk.

Suzanne rested her head on her hand and whispered, "It is all right. I am all right now. I was only a bit faint. Oh, I am so sorry, dear Madame."

Auntie Sue was soon up upon her sprightly little feet again. Smilingly she bowed Madame and her granddaughter out of the door. But when they had left the shop, Suzanne went to her room, and Jeanne did not see her again that day.

CHAPTER XIII

COME AND PLAY

Margot took off the telephone receiver and asked for a number. It was early next morning, and the child was not yet dressed.

She was in kimono and slippers and had tiptoed into the living room.

"Hello," said a voice at the other end of the wire.

"Hello," said Margot. "I want to speak with Jeanne, if you please."

Margot had talked of nothing but Jeanne from the time she had left the shop. She had fallen asleep last night to the tune of Pierrot dreams, fiery steeds, and gallant armored knights.

Grandmother promised that she might ask Jeanne to play with her to-day. They would go for a long drive. They would go to the park and to the Guignol. There was nobody like Jeanne – nobody that Margot had ever met.

"Is this Jeanne?" asked Margot, as the little girl's voice came over the telephone.

"Yes."

"This is Margot. Can you go out with me to-day? I shall call for you at two."

It was a command, but little Margot was not aware of that. She did not mean it that way. She only meant to have what she wanted, as she usually did.

"But I must first ask Auntie," Jeanne replied.

"Oh, she will let you go," declared Margot. "You may tell her that we shall take care of you and bring you back safely."

Margot waited while Jeanne ran to Auntie's room. Jeanne had not seen Auntie since the afternoon before, when she had so mysteriously disappeared in her room after her fainting spell. Jeanne found Auntie a pale and worried Auntie this morning.

"Oh, Auntie dear," cried Jeanne, throwing her arms about Suzanne's neck, "you are not well."

Suzanne assured the child that she was quite well, and so she was. The only trouble was with the little man who is nothing but a voice and is called Conscience. He had been talking to her all night and keeping her awake.

When Jeanne told what Madame Villard's grandchild wanted, it seemed that Suzanne flinched at the name.

But she smiled and answered, "Yes, dear. Tell her you will go. It will be so nice for you. And to-day is Sunday. There is no work."

Jeanne was only a child, and she longed to go with her new little friend. She longed to ride in the big motor and to play. But she hesitated just for a minute.

"You are sure you will not need me, dear Auntie?" she asked.

"Run along and tell the little girl you are coming," laughed Auntie Sue.

When Jeanne closed the door behind her, Suzanne Moreau's smile faded. She held her throbbing head in her two hands.

How she longed to tell some one of her sufferings! If only she dared confide her story to the Major!

But she valued that honorable gentleman's friendship so much that she feared to lose it by admitting what she now felt to be her terrible crime. Conscience was making her think that – Conscience, together with the face in the locket!

And now Jeanne was going out with little Margot – her own cousin! Margot would take her in a beautiful car. Margot would wear beautiful clothes. They would play with beautiful toys.

Ah, poor little Jeanne! It was hard for Suzanne, with these thoughts, to keep a smiling face until Jeanne had left with Margot.

CHAPTER XIV

A DRIVE THROUGH PARIS

Through Paris in a fine motor car! How often Jeanne had seen these same sights! But now how splendid it all seemed to the little girl, as she sat beside Margot, with Pierrot firmly clasped in her hand! For Pierrot had been invited, too. I doubt whether Margot would have welcomed Jeanne as heartily without Pierrot. Pierrot was half of the performance.

They rode through Paris. They passed the Place de la Concorde (pläs dĕ lä kôn-kôrd´), that most beautiful of city squares, where a sight not so beautiful once stood. It was here that the guillotine had stood. It is the terrible instrument which beheaded so many people in those frightful, stormy days of old.

The square was then called Place de la Revolution (pläs dĕ lä rĕv-ō-lū´-syōn). But now the name, "Place de la Concorde," means "Place of Peace."

They crossed bridges. There are thirty-two bridges in Paris. Some of these are very beautiful. Curiously, the oldest of these, a bridge begun in 1578, is called Pont Neuf (pôn nûf), which means "New Bridge."

They passed the Louvre (lo͞o´-vr´), once a palace. It is now the largest museum in the world. Here such famous works of art as the Venus de Milo (vē´-nus dĕ mē´-lō) and the Mona Lisa (mō´-nä lē´-zä) are to be seen.

The Arc de Triomphe (ärk dĕ trē´-ônf´) stands as a memorial to the great victories of the French general, Napoleon I. It is an arch of splendor set in the center of branching wide avenues.

For Paris is a city noted for beauty. It was planned and built and dreamed, while most other cities, like Topsy, the colored girl, "just growed."

Paris, with its avenues lined with trees, its wide streets and spacious parks, did not "just grow." It was a dream before it was built, and now it is that dream realized.