herself to take to Annémie, and looking round as she sat on the edge of
the roof, with one foot on the highest rung of the ladder, saw that
Jeannot was still at the gate.

"You will be late in the forest, Jeannot," she cried to him. "It is such
a long, long way in and out. Why do you look so sulky? and you are
kicking the wicket to pieces."

"I do not like you to talk with strangers," said Jeannot, sullenly and
sadly.

Bébée laughed as she sat on the edge of the thatch, and looked at the
shining gray skies of the early day, and the dew-wet garden, and the
green fields beyond, with happy eyes that made the familiar scene
transfigured to her.

"Oh, Jeannot, what nonsense! As if I do not talk to a million strangers
every summer! as if I could ever sell a flower if I did not! You are
cross this morning; that is what it is."

"Do you know the man's name?" said Jeannot, suddenly.

Bébée felt her cheeks grow warm as with some noonday heat of sunshine.
She thought it was with anger against blundering Jeannot's curiosity.

"No! and what would his name be to us, if I did know it? I cannot ask
people's names because they buy my roses."

"As if it were only roses!"